


Do You Dare LoVe?

by yellowcrayonwillow



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowcrayonwillow/pseuds/yellowcrayonwillow
Summary: Based loosely off of Dash & Lily. It starts with a red notebook, just a game to pass the time, but could it lead to something more?
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 44
Kudos: 53
Collections: Lovecember Holiday Edition





	1. December 18th

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to use different fonts for the letters, but I couldn't get it to work so know that those things in bold and italics are the written letters to each other.

_**_**December 18, 2010** _ ** _

It starts as a game. Just something silly to pass the time since I was alone on Christmas. I figured, who doesn’t love a good mystery. I’d put it out there and see what happened. 

If it made a connection, perhaps made someone feel a little better while making me less lonely, so much the better. 

Who knows, maybe it’ll even lead to love. 

_Love._ How can one little four letter word be so big and scary? This one word carries enormous importance and emotion. To love is to risk loss. The last time I tried that path, it didn’t end well. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. 

If nothing comes of this, well, it will give me something else to think about this year. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A little red leather notebook, nondescript, and shoved between two books, completely out of place. 

It annoys me when people put the things they don’t want anymore, wherever they might be. It’s like grocery carts in the parking lot, how hard is it to walk twenty feet to return it to the cart return kiosk. People can be so lazy and rude.

I pull it out idly, wondering how it came to be there in the science fiction section. Pulling it out, I make the decision to drop it off at the information desk while I peruse the shelves. I continue my attempt to find a book or five, as evidenced by the stack already in my hands. Something to keep me company during this Christmas season. 

This holiday holds nothing for me, and I want nothing to do with it or the people. I don’t want to buy into the fake commercialism and pretend to be happy. I feel like I’ve been playing a role, pretending to be this socially outgoing person when all I want is to wallow in my misery. 

It’s impossible to not notice the couples on the streets, holding hands. There’s a part of me that wants that, while a bigger part of me remembers that it’s all a lie. 

The holidays are hard. Too much forced cheer, too much family togetherness, too much. You spend months planning for this one day and in the end, isn’t it a disappointment on some level? The glowing lights are supposed to make us feel warm while the days get longer, it’s like a last hurrah before the cold and the dark really take hold and we’re forced to remember why the holidays are hard, making us look at it with nostalgia and longing for something that never was. There’s a reason more people suffer depression at the holidays.

I used to love Christmas; it used to be my favorite time of the year. It meant laughter, love, light and cheer. That changed when I was seventeen. No, I didn’t find out that Santa Claus isn't real, I’m not that naïve. That ship sailed years before then. No, that was the year I found out that the lights don’t keep the darkness at bay. 

All I want for Christmas this year is to be left alone. I don’t want to go to parties and drink to numb myself to the loneliness. I don’t want to hook up with some random person who's only interested in me for a fleeting minute or worse pretends to love me. 

No, this year, my plans include me, my apartment, a good bottle of scotch and some mythical worlds to lose myself in. I’ve come to this out of the way independent bookstore with hopes that my reading choices won’t make their way onto the cover of some shitty tabloid.

It’s not the sort of place I would normally be seen, so I feel safe in my anonymity. The Strand is a dream for book lovers, and I could stay here for hours. 

I continue my book search, picking up the latest Pratchett, may he rest in peace, and taking a chance on a new author whose work seems promising. I stumble over a loose piece of carpet, dropping my books on the floor as I try to keep myself from face planting on the floor. When I pick up the red journal, I notice that it’s not a brand new journal simply misplaced. 

On the cover, someone has written the words _**‘Do you dare?’**_ in black sharpie.

My curiosity peaked, I undo the sash holding it closed and flip the cover open, looking for a name or something to identify who it belongs to. Maybe someone was picking out books and accidentally put it back with some other volume. The first page has several blank lines and a small note written in precise handwriting. 

_**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _?** _

**__**

**_Are you ready to play? There are rules and criteria to weed out the unworthy. Be warned, this is not a game for the faint of heart. You will be tested, but the end may be worth your effort._ **

**__**

**_1\. If you’re under the age of 20, please put this book back where you found it. It is not for you._ **

**__**

**_2\. If you’re older than the age of 24, please put this book back where you found it. It is not for you._ **

**__**

**_3\. While love is a spectrum, if you are not male and/or women are not on your spectrum, please put this book back where you found it. It is not for you._ **

**__**

**_Are you still with me? Turn the page._ **

**__**

**_I’m 20 and intrigued so I turn the page, wondering what awaits me._ **

**__**

**_So here’s the game. You need to solve the phrase using the clues below. Answer the question._ **

**__**

**_Clue #1_ **

**__**

**_The first word of a quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson about making your way in the world._ **

**__**

**_Clue #2_ **

**__**

**_The opposite of me_ **

**__**

**_Clue #3_ **

**__**

**_Maya Angelou always said that people will never forget what about you?_ **

**__**

**_Clue #4_ **

**__**

**_When your day night_ **

Glancing around the shop to see if anyone is watching me, I pull a pen out of my back pocket. 

I feel a strange connection with this person as I run through all the quotes I have stored in my head, trying to remember one by Ralph Waldo Emerson about paths. __“Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.”__ It’s one of my favorite quotes, one I consider when making choices in my life, like moving to New York. 

The first word is “Do”. _Do what?_

The second clue is a riddle, and I almost snort at how easy it is. The opposite of me is you. 

“Do you?” 

My heart is racing in anticipation. It’s been a long time since I felt something this strongly. For the past year I’ve been weighted down by ennui, tired of the life I’ve lived but unable to break free entirely. Now, it seems thanks to a chance encounter; I have something to look forward to, even if it is just some words on a page. Solving the mystery gives me a thrill I wouldn’t have thought possible. I want to know more about this person. _Who are they? Why did they do this?_

Another quote, one my mother used to say to me when I worried too much I was making a fool of myself. 

_"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." -Maya Angelou_

The ever present pain of my mother’s loss flares while I hear my mother’s voice repeating the quote in my mind. 

“Do you feel?”

_We all feel. You’re going to have to be more specific, Mystery Author._

I look at the last clue, expecting another riddle or quote. 

When your day is night. I think for a minute before a song plays in my head. R.E.M.’s _Everybody Hurts._ It’s a song that is both cliche and poignant. It’s also one that I’ve found myself playing on repeat numerous times, trying to build myself up after yet another loss in my life. 

I sing through the song, trying to find the line. “When your day is night alone, hold on.”

Well, if nothing else, they have good taste in music. I stare at the full sentence I’ve written on the page. 

_**Do you feel alone?** _

I’m normally surrounded by people, so how could I possibly feel alone? I shake my head at the lie even as my mind forms it. I always feel alone. It makes no sense that this sends a shiver through me, that some stranger sees this about me. I realize this book was left for anyone, but it feels like it was just waiting for me. 

_**Did you figure it out?**_

_**If the answer is yes, then turn the page.** _

I turn the page, wondering what lies in store. I feel a little like Alice heading down the rabbit hole. And just like Alice, I’m ready for this adventure. If I get nothing else out of this, at least it will be a welcome distraction from the noise in my head. 

_**So here’s how we’ll play. Write me a message, tell me one true thing about yourself, put the book back where you found it. If I like your answer, we’ll continue to play.**_

__One true thing?_ Obviously my Mystery Author doesn’t mean something as mundane as my name. Normally I’m an extremely private person, refusing to share anything about myself beyond the basics. I’m like a POW reciting my name, rank, serial number. Nothing more, nothing less. Somehow I don’t think that will cut it here. _

__

The owner of this red notebook is a stranger, but I decide to take a chance. 

__

Holding the pen cap in my teeth, I swallow down my hesitation, the fear that these words will become front page fodder, “Poor Movie Star’s Son”, and just let the words flow from me. 

__

_**I have to admit, I’m intrigued. This is not what I was expecting when I walked into this store today.** _

__

**__**

__

**_But I’ll play along._ **

__

**__**

__

**_You asked me to tell you one true thing, so here it is._ **

__

**__**

__

**_I stand in a room full of people and I feel utterly alone. I have no connection to the surrounding people. I don’t understand what drives them, how they can be so happy all the time when there’s so much pain in the world. I feel like they see only a shadow of who I am. But I’m afraid to show my true self because I doubt they would like me. Isn’t it better to be with people alone than to be alone?_ **

__

**__**

__

**_Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m the problem. All my life I’ve looked for someone to see me and always, I’m disappointed. It leaves me wondering, can I be loved?_ **

__

I put the book back before I can second guess myself. I’ve never been this open with anyone, not even the so-called love of my life. That was a whirlwind of hormones and physical satisfaction, mistaken for love that ultimately left me a shell of my former self. It served to reinforce what I already knew; I was not worthy of love. 

__

If I was, then my father wouldn’t have beaten me. My mother wouldn’t have taken that swan dive off the Coronado bridge and left me to a sadistic bastard’s whims. I wasn’t enough for either of them. 

__

Refusing to get lost in the memories threatening while I contemplate my feelings of self-worth, I snatch up my purchases and make my way to the cashier’s desk. 

__

A slim black man with close cropped hair and a name tag that proclaims ‘Wallace’ greets me with a bored smile. He glances at my selections and I can feel him silently judging my choices. A part of me hopes that they pass whatever test he has while another part of me wants to tell him to keep his judgements to himself. As if I care what he thinks of my pleasure reading habits. 

__

“This is a fantastic series.” I jump slightly at the sound of his voice. I glance at the volume he’s holding. It’s the book by an author I’ve never read, but seemed interesting. The cover has a young spunky girl, which is probably what drew me to it in the first place. “First Rider’s Call” by Kristen Britain. 

__

I shrug. “It sounded interesting.” My mind is still on the notebook and my Mysterious Author. I consider Wallace, wondering if he might be able to shed some light on my mystery penpal.

__

“Hey man, I found a red notebook back in sci-fi that didn’t seem to belong.” He glances up sharply from the register. 

__

“What did you do with it?” His voice is tight and I realize he knows all about that notebook.

__

“I put it back where I found it. I figured the owner would come back for it. Seemed kind of important.” I try to keep my tone light, though I desperately want to interrogate him. 

__

“I don’t know anything about it.” He looks down, obviously hiding something.

__

Before he was taking his time ringing up my books, but now he seems like he’s in a hurry as he rushes through the rest of the transaction. I hand over my credit card to pay and I notice him glancing at it to check out my name before staring at me in wide eye wonder. __Yeah, that’s me.__ A heavy sigh escapes me. He runs the card and hands me my receipt to sign.

__

I sign and grab the carrier bag full of books, feeling slightly disappointed. Wallace seems more agitated as I take my time, stopping to look at a bookmark by the register before heading to the door. I turn back to look through the glass doors after I exit and Wallace is in his cell, talking animatedly to someone. _Could it be my Mystery Author?_

__

Debating on hanging around and maybe catching my Mystery Author. My phone rings, reminding me I have places to be. As I pull out my cell, I realize that I’m actually late, my brief trip to Strand taking longer than I expected. 

__

“Dude.” The voice on the other end of the phone slurs. _Shit, he started early tonight._

__

“Dick, sorry I got held up. I’m on my way now.” Walking as I speak, a small person, bundled up against the cold, bumps into me as they hurry down the sidewalk. I hear a soft ‘sorry’ but the person is gone before I can say anything. I focus again on my friend on the phone. 

__

“Wait, you got held up?” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. Dick Casablancas is like a brother to me, but sometimes I mourn the brain cells he’s obviously sacrificed over the years in the name of partying. 

__

“Not literally. I just had something come up that I needed to take care of.” I hail a cab, throwing my bag of books on the seat before getting in. While I’m giving the cab driver the address, I miss what Dick says. “What was that? I’m just getting in the car now. I’ll be there soon.”

__

“You’d better, Dude. There’s a ton of hot hotties here tonight and you don’t want to miss out on the festivities.” I groan inwardly at the thought of having bimbos crawling all over me tonight. I don’t know why I agreed to attend Dick’s party at the Four Seasons, when all I really wanted was my solitude. That was supposed to be the point of the party being held somewhere other than our apartment. Instead, I got roped into agreeing to attend.

__

“I’m sure you can handle them.” In the background, I hear laughter and music. Suddenly it’s quiet and I check my phone to see if the call disconnected.

__

Dick’s voice comes on the line in a harsh whisper. “Dude, she’s here.”

__

I grit my teeth, rage washing through me as I realize he can only mean one person. The so-called love of my life, the bitch who ripped out my heart when she fucked my father. Lilly fucking Kane. What the hell is she doing in town? I thought I moved three thousand miles away, so I never had to deal with her again. 

__

“Dude?” Dicks voice is concerned, and I remind myself that it's not his fault. 

__

“It’s fine, Dick. I’m sure there’s lots of people there. I won’t even need to talk to her.” _Leave it to Lilly to show up when I was finally starting to feel better about myself._

__

“She’s already asked for you.” I guess it was too much to ask that she get the message when I moved, that I wanted nothing more to do with her. Of course, that would have shown some emotional intelligence on her part and Lilly is as selfish as they come. There’s no way she is going to let a little thing like my anger get in the way of what she wanted. 

__

I debate just heading back to my apartment, but Dick is drunk and I promised to be his wingman tonight. Holidays are just as hard for him, having lost his brother at Christmas in our senior year of high school. I know he blames himself for Cassidy’s problems and his way of dealing is getting shit faced and making stupid decisions. After everything he’s helped me through I can’t just abandon him because my ex blows into town like the wicked witch of the west. 

__

“It’ll be fine, Dick. It was a long time ago. I’m sure we can pass each other at a party and go our separate ways.” If you tell yourself something long enough, you’ll start to believe it. At least that’s what my therapist always tells me. 

__

Dick hangs up the phone while I give the driver our new destination. Fuck, this had been such a good night before now. A little mystery distracting me from my normally gloomy thoughts. Now all that’s shot to hell as I steel myself to face my past again. 

__

_______________________________________________________________________

__

Wallace calls while I am studying.

__

“V, someone asked about the notebook.” His words come out rushed like he’s been running. 

__

My heart starts to beat faster. I put the notebook on the shelves of Strand, the bookstore where Wallace works as a lark. It was just something to pass the time since I am stuck in New York for the holiday, thousands of miles away from my dad. 

__

It’s also my way of putting a message out into the world. You’re not alone, I’m not alone. I want to believe that. I need to believe that. I’m just having a hard time right now. 

__

I moved to New York two years ago after a disastrous first semester at UC-San Diego. I told myself that I was moving to give myself a fresh start, become a new person. The fear that took up residence those months before still had hold of me, keeping me from making the most of what should have been one of the best experiences of my life. 

__

When I told my friends, Mac and Wallace my plan, they were equal parts horrified and enthralled. Mac worried that I was setting myself up for disappointment. She didn’t understand how a silly mystery game with a stranger could make me overcome my own fears. If anything, the opposite should be true. 

__

Wallace was supportive, letting me leave the notebook at Strand. He promised to tell me if anyone found it and did as I asked. If he thought I was crazy, he kept it to himself. 

__

It had been sitting there for a little less than four hours when he called. I didn’t expect anything this soon and had been trying to avoid thinking about it by studying. My classes were on break, but I figured it’s never too soon to get a jump on the next semester. 

__

“Did this person actually write in it, or did they mention it?” I’m not going to rush down there in the cold if it was just a good samaritan pointing out a mis-shelved book. My heart is still beating rapidly and the same voice that told me to do this in the first place is whispering, _‘You’re not alone. He found it.’_

__

Wallace didn’t say it was a guy, and I have no reason to believe this, but I have come to trust this voice I hear. 

__

“I saw him pull it out and then he spent twenty minutes in the aisle looking at it. I don’t think he saw me watching him.” 

__

I try to keep my tone casual as I move around the apartment I share with Mac, pulling on my shoes and coat. “Him?”

__

“Yeah, it was a guy. He looked about our age.” I’m dying to ask Wallace for more details, but I made him promise on his mother’s life that he would let me solve this mystery all on my own. 

__

What’s the fun if you can get the answers without the work?

__

I close and lock the door to my apartment, letting Wallace know I’m on my way. Mac is out for the evening and probably won’t be back tonight. She’s normally as much a homebody as I am, but she recently started dating this guy Max and has been spending all her time with him. 

__

It’s probably easier that she isn’t home to see me racing to see what some mystery guy has written me. She was skeptical enough about this whole thing. 

__

I practically run the four blocks to Strand, accidentally bumping into a tall, dark-haired man talking on a cell phone. I utter a quick sorry as I continue down the sidewalk, the bookstore already in my sights. 

__

The door chimes as I push it open, glad to be out of the cold. Even after living here for two years, my southern California bred body still can’t handle east coast winters. Thank god for North Face parkas even if they make me look like the stay puff marshmallow woman. 

__

Wallace is with a customer but sends a smile my way as I head back to the science fiction section. I debated for a long time on which section to put the book in. I briefly considered placing it next to Salinger’s _Franny and Zooey,_ but that seemed too cheesy for my tastes. Finally, I had placed the book next to _First Rider’s Call,_ the first in the Green Rider’s series by Kristen Britain. 

__

It was a series about a young girl caught up in things she doesn’t understand, fighting for her life, saving a king. Basically, being a badass. A person I could admire and aspire to be like, but not who I currently am. And of course she gets to do all of this with her trusty horse.

__

_I’m still holding out for that pony someday._

__

As far as sci-fi and fantasy novels go, it’s more geared towards the female portion of the population, so it’s a risky choice. However, any guy who is willing to look past the lack of scantily clad female on the cover to see the worth of the story unfolding is one I am willing to take a risk on. 

__

My hand trembles as I pull the notebook from the shelf. 

__

I open the cover, staring at the loopy handwriting answering the riddle I spent hours devising. It had to be hard enough to weed out the idiots, but not so hard no one would ever get it. 

__

I turn the page and read what he’s written. Tears spring to my eyes as the hope and sadness of his words pierce my heart. 

__

_It’s him._

__

Never in my wildest dreams did I expect such open honesty from a stranger. I trace a fingertip over the words, trying to imagine the man who wrote them. 

__

Of course it’s possible that it’s all a lie, someone playing with me, but somehow I believe what he’s written. 

__

Glancing up at the registers, and see that Wallace is still helping the customer. Helping might be a generous term considering how she’s gazing up at him with adoring eyes. I bookmark that for later, turning my attention back to the notebook. I pull a pen out of my messenger bag, chewing on the cap searching for the right words. 

__

_**Everyone deserves love and everyone is capable of being loved. It’s a matter of finding the right person who sees you for who you are.** _

__

**__**

__

**_I can say that, but like you, I wonder. I thought I was loved, but it was a delusion. I still believe it’s possible, but how do you know it’s real?_ **

__

**__**

__

**_We’ll keep playing._ **

__

**__**

__

**_'Tis the season to be merry and bright, but it’s far too cold here. If you want to know more, find my accidental discovery and warm up. Ask me anything you want. Leave the book with the hostess._ **

__

**__**

__

**_If you can handle this dare, I’ll answer your question. Until then…_ **

__

I put the notebook back, letting my fingers trail over the spine. Let’s see if he’s as smart as he seems. 

__

I wave goodbye to Wallace, who barely glances up from his continued conversation. He must really like her to not even notice me leaving. Normally, he’d remind me to text him when I get back to the apartment, ensuring I made it there safely. 

__

I don’t know how to feel about that. I count on Wallace to help me face my fears while still giving me my independence. 

__

A text comes through on my phone and I smile as I read it. 

__

_Don’t forget to let me know you made it home safe and sound._

__

_________________________________________________________________________

__


	2. December 19th

_**_**_**December 19, 2010** _ ** _ ** _

When I wake up in the morning, my body feels beaten and my head, three sizes too small. Par for the course, considering how much I drank last night. I roll over in bed, surreptitiously checking to see that I’m alone. 

The only thing that can make this hangover worse is if I have to deal with some stranger in my bed gushing about how she wants to be the next Mrs. Echolls. That’s a stupidity I’ve managed to avoid this past year. 

My questing hand finds only my other pillow and I pull it into my arms while I try to breathe through the pain in my head. My mouth feels like an old carpet, fuzzy and ragged. I should probably get some water and brush my teeth, not necessarily in that order. 

When I sit up, ready to make my way to my bathroom, the room spins, while memories of last night assail me. Giving up on leaving the bed anytime soon, I curl up into a ball, still holding the pillow as if it’s a treasured stuffed animal. 

I thought I could handle seeing Lilly. It’s been almost a year, but the rage and despair still threatened to overwhelm me. As is my wont, I spent the night avoiding her and drinking half my weight in tequila. 

_Never again._ I groan as my heartbeat sounds like a drumbeat in my head. 

At least I didn’t have to speak to her. Hearing her half-assed excuses again, begging me to understand, would have sent me over the edge. As it is, I’m filled with self-loathing for allowing her to still have any effect on me. 

I promised myself when I left Neptune, California, that I would not let my past define my future. Yet here I am hiding out in my room, nursing my first hangover in nearly a year. 

The words I wrote in the red notebook float through my mind. _Can I be loved?_

If I go by what life has shown me, then the answer is no. I thought Lilly loved me. I thought we were going to live happily ever after, that she saw past my name and really loved me. Now I know that was all a lie. I was a means to an end, the bad boy she used to torment her mother when we were in high school. Then when we got to college, and I tried to fly the straight and narrow, she found the baddest boy of them all. 

_Flashback_

_Christmas 2009_

I practically skip up the walk to my rented beach house, taking in the lights decorating the outside and the lit Christmas tree filling the picture window in the front. For the first time in a long time, I feel light. I’m looking forward to Christmas, spending it in my new home with my beautiful girlfriend. 

Lilly and I dated off and on throughout high school, taking a break our freshman year of college when she left to attend Vasser. She had shown up at my dorm room the beginning of sophomore year claiming she had missed me so much. I was thrilled to have her back, and didn't even bother questioning why she gave up a spot at Vasser to move back and attend little ole Hearst with me. 

She quickly convinced me that the dorm and my roommate weren’t conducive to us resuming our rather loud and experimental sexual relationship. So I rented a house for us. It was like a dream come true, having a home where I didn’t have to be afraid, that wasn’t tainted by memories. 

I stand staring at the house, letting the warmth of the lights wash over me. Lilly wanted to decorate, which really meant sitting on her perfect ass directing me to put lights up. While I survey my handiwork, _not bad for an 09’er with no domestic skills_ , I notice Lilly near the tree. 

My heart rate speeds up when I take in the sexy outfit she has on. The red gauzy teddy is tied on with a red bow and my hands itch to untie it. I imagine making love under the tree after I unwrap my gift. My pants tighten and I shift uncomfortably. 

Before I can move though, I notice that Lilly isn’t alone. She throws her head back in laughter as a man shifts into view, his hand reaching to untie the bow of her santa teddy. She slaps his hand away playfully, smiling a mischievous smile as she sits on the top of our couch, spreading her legs. The man seems familiar as he moves in front of her, dropping to his knees in between her thighs. 

Rage burns through me, setting my vision awash in red. No longer skipping, I march to the front door, finding it unlocked. I storm in, ready to rip the invader from my girlfriend’s thighs. I knew Lilly cheated on me when we were in high school, but never as blatantly as this. I thought we were past all that when she moved back home to be with me. 

I’m stopped in my tracks when I recognize the asshole eating out my girlfriend. My entire body freezes as my worst nightmare continues licking her enthusiastically. Lilly’s eyes are closed, her head back as she moans in ecstasy. 

A wounded sound rips from my throat, and Lilly’s eyes fly open. She smiles slightly, quickly covering it up with a look of shock and contrition. It’s too late though, even if I hadn’t seen the smile, there’s no way I’m going to believe that the scene before me is anything but consensual. 

Alerted to my presence by the change in Lilly’s demeanor, my father slowly turns, nonchalantly wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. 

“Hello son.” Lilly closes her legs and makes to move towards me, but I hold up my hands backing away from them both. 

“Logan, wait. It’s not..” I cut her off, my father now standing with a sadistic smile on his face. 

“Fuck you, Lilly. Don’t come near me.” I’m still backing up. When I feel my feet hit the concrete of the front steps, I turn and run. 

_End Flashback_

I ran all the way to New York. It’s amazing what a nearly limitless trust fund can do. I booked the first flight out the next day, only calling Dick to let him know I was leaving for good. He insisted on coming with me. I disenrolled from Hearst and into NYU in a matter of days. The rental agreement was easy to break with a little extra money to make up for leaving them high and dry, and the landlord was more than happy to arrange to have my things shipped out to New York when I had an address to send them to. 

Lilly tried calling me incessantly, but I ignored her attempts to explain. I tried listening to one of her messages, full of fake contriteness. “I was high, Logan, it didn’t mean anything Logan.” I had to drop the phone and run to the bathroom to vomit. I deleted all of her messages after that, not bothering to try to listen to another. 

Aaron also called. I wanted to ignore those calls, but I knew that would only make him angrier. He didn’t bother apologizing or giving excuses. Both of us knew he wouldn’t have meant it, nor would I have believed it anyway. 

Instead, he laid down the law as he saw it, leaving me little choice but to go along. I was to keep my mouth shut about what happened. Heaven forbid that something like this get out and ruin his image of the still grieving widow action star. As if I wanted to shout from the rooftops how my own father had cuckolded me. I had to keep a low profile, but if he asked, I had to give interviews, being the dutiful son as always. 

If I kept to his rules, he would stay away, leaving me alone. If not, then he would ensure that my life was a living hell. I knew from the terms of my trust that he could cut me off, though I wasn’t too worried about that. It was the lengths he would go to for his career. It wasn’t an exaggeration that he terrified me. 

All my life, I was just a prop in the Aaron Echolls’s propaganda machine. Dolled up and trotted out to show what a doting father he was, how down to earth he still was. Every misstep dealt with quickly and severely, often leaving scars both physical and mental. I learned from a very young age that no one was going to believe or help me. Not even my own mother helped me, instead hiding in her bottles and pills until she stopped hiding altogether. 

While I knew that my father was never faithful, it wasn’t until the whole thing with Lilly that I finally put two and two together. My mother got sick of the show and tried to leave, but he wouldn’t let her. She took the only out she felt she could by jumping off that bridge. 

I couldn’t blame her, but I still was angry that she left me alone with him. That last year before I went to college, he beat me so often I had to start a turf war with the local gang just to explain my constant visible injuries. 

I roll over in bed, groaning, my stomach roiling as the memories of last night and the past assail me relentlessly. This is why I’ve limited my drinking all this time. Well, and the fear that I would become an alcoholic like my mother, hiding from the world in the bottom of a bottle. 

Things are not easy in New York, but they are better. I am finally seeing a therapist, and I really enjoy my classes at school. It isn’t much, but for me it’s everything. I have a dream of writing a national bestseller, making my own money and getting out from under my father’s shadow. It’s even a plausible dream, as my work has been increasingly noticed at school. 

One of my professors has even suggested that I submit one of my short stories to the New Yorker, practically guaranteeing its publishing. 

It’s just my personal life that’s still a disaster. 

With Herculean effort, I push thoughts of Lilly and Aaron out of my pounding head, focusing on my Mystery Author. I wonder why she started this. Yeah, I think it’s a woman based on the way she wrote the criteria for even playing. A woman who is reaching out for a connection in a city with millions of people. 

My stomach finally settles enough that I’m able to drag my carcass to the bathroom for some water and advil. I try not to look in the mirror while I brush my teeth. 

Last night was definitely a mistake, but at least one thing came from it. I can’t wait to go back to Strand today and see what she wrote. I feel fairly certain that the salesclerk, Wallace, knows who she is and called her the minute I left. 

_Fuck, I hope he didn’t read what I wrote. He knows my name. He could make millions selling that sort of story to the tabloids. It would bring the wrath of Aaron down on me for sure_. I shudder at the thought, trying to convince myself that not everyone is interested in celebrities, even celebrities by proxy such as me. 

Dick snores, passed out on the couch when I emerge from my room, freshly showered and in desperate need of some coffee. I try to wake him up, halfheartedly, but he continues to sleep. Making sure he’s at least turned on his side in case his stomach feels like mine did this morning, I head out to start my day.

Classes are over, so there’s nothing preventing me from rushing straight to Strand except my need for caffeine. After a quick stop at a local coffee shop for a very large Americano, I walk the fifteen blocks to the store. 

I nod at Wallace, who's working the cashier’s desk again, heading straight back to the sci-fi section. I tamp down momentary panic as I reach shaking hands for the notebook that still sits there. _Maybe she didn’t like my answer._

My Mystery Author is a complete stranger, yet I feel myself needing her to continue this game. The idea of her writing me off fills me with dread. 

I stare at the cover for a few seconds, my finger tracing the words on the cover. _Do you dare?_

Finally, I turn the cover, looking frantically for new writing. When I see what she’s written, a sigh escapes me. Lilly used to make me jump through hoops to get any kind of truth from her, but these words aren’t the same. They’re like a lifeline, pulling me back from a precipice I didn’t realize I was on. 

I reread her words, trying to puzzle what I need to do. Obviously I’m not leaving the notebook here again unless I want to give up. _Shit, how am I supposed to know what her accidental discovery is?_

There’s a million places in the city, I’ve lived here almost a year now and I still keep getting surprised when I turn a new corner. The answer has to be in the words. She wouldn’t leave me without any clues to guide my way to her. 

Standing in the aisle is not going to solve it, and I make to leave. Wallace catches my eye as I walk towards the exit with the notebook clutched tightly in one hand, my half-full coffee cup in the other. He turns away quickly, but I could swear that he winked. I don’t know what to make of that, so I keep pushing forward.

My mind keeps repeating her words. _If you want to know more, find my accidental discovery and warm up._ She mentioned the cold, so maybe she’s not from around here either. Maybe it’s a spa. A warm sauna sounds outstanding as I stand in the blustery cold. I take a sip of my coffee, thinking through the rest of her message. _Leave the book with the hostess._ Spas don’t really have hostesses. 

Restaurants have hostesses. _That narrows it down to under a million._ As I ponder, I head back towards my apartment. The words taunt me. An accidental discovery. 

I’m about a block from my apartment when it hits me. A restaurant that is an accidental discovery and serves something to warm up. If my Mystery Author isn’t from New York, then that would probably be Serendipity III, home to best frozen hot chocolate in the city. _Doesn’t serendipity also mean accidental discovery?_ Everyone always considers it to be fate, but it really is just a happy chance. 

Armed with a destination, I whistle for a cab. 

It’s Sunday, so there’s a bit of a wait before I’m seated at a cozy table under a tiffany lamp. Already cold enough, I order the Serendipitous Hot Chocolate. As I sip my chocolaty goodness, I make a mental note to come back in the summer and get one of the frozen hot chocolates. 

The hot chocolate is rich and warms me to my core. While looking around at the eclectic artwork on the walls, I try to imagine my Mystery Author sitting there as well. I have so many questions. What is her name? Where is she from? What does she look like? 

I don’t think her intent was to have me pepper her with a thousand questions. Keeping in mind that this is a game, a game of daring to show who you truly are, I begin to write. 

_**Maybe it was a delusion, but it doesn’t make it any less real. Love seems like a heavy discussion to have with someone I know nothing about other than you like chocolate. You do like chocolate, right? How could you not when you sent me here? I’m going to mark that down on my hopefully growing list of things I know about you.** _

**__**

**_It’s too cold for frozen hot chocolate today and you did tell me to warm up. I’ve been in the city for almost a year and I can’t believe I never thought to come here. You can’t know this, but I needed something like this today. I needed something new and warm to erase the shadows and memories that plague me. So thank you._ **

**__**

**_I love this place. The kitsch is just the right kind and even though it’s a tourist trap, it’s got history, something that was severely lacking in my hometown. There, it was all flash and glitter hiding the darkness underneath. Here, with the Christmas lights, the warmth of the chocolate with the hint of orange, it’s hopeful. Definitely an accidental discovery._ **

**__**

**_You told me I could ask you anything and my mind is filled with a thousand questions. In the spirit of this game you’ve begun, I’ll keep my inquiries to the basics for now, hoping in time you’ll tell me all that I need to know of you. I bet you think I’m going to ask you why you started this. Why a stranger would seek out a stranger. Yet, that’s not the question I’m going to ask because I think I know the answer already. Maybe we’ll come back here someday and share the frozen chocolate together and you can tell me if I’m right._ **

**__**

**_My question of you is a simple one, what is your name? No more, no less. A name is where it starts, a name for the voice in my head that I hear when I read your words._ **

**__**

**_So what’s your name, Mystery Author?_ **

**__**

**_As you’ve shown me one of your favorite spots, I’d like to repay the favor. If you’re willing to share this most intimate of secrets with me, leave the book where you begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end. Then stop._ **

My Mystery Author seems like a clever girl, so we’ll see if she can find the place I’m thinking of. This connection I feel to her is strong but inexplicable. 

I leave the book with a hostess named Mac, who gives me an appraising look. I wonder if she’s friends with my Mystery Author. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask her for answers, but she turns abruptly, demonstrating that there will be no answers forthcoming today. 

______________________________________________________________________________

The moment Mac walks in the door, returning from work, I immediately ask if she has the notebook, following her into her room as she changes from her work clothes. I’m already begging for details of the person who might have given it to her. She pushes me out of her room, refusing to acknowledge if she has the notebook or not. 

“Dammit Veronica, just give me a minute. I smell like chocolate and I really just want to get into something comfy. Besides, you just told me to deliver the book, not to give you any details about the person who left it.” She smiles slyly, knowing that she’s got me there. I wanted everything to be a surprise, but I’m not really one for surprises and my curiosity is killing me. 

First Wallace and now Mac have seen my mystery penpal, but neither one of them is giving up any of the goods on him. All I could get out of Wallace was that he’s our age and a guy. It was no use asking Wallace if he was handsome because Wallace wouldn’t notice something like that. Especially not if that girl he’s been flirting with was around. 

Trying to be patient, I leave Mac to her nightly ritual, heading into the kitchen to fix us a light meal. I’ve been studying all day, but I can barely remember anything I read as I wonder what he’s written. Mac finally exits her bedroom, dressed in comfy sweats, a sure sign she’s not going to Max’s tonight.

While I love spending time with Mac, I’m a bit disappointed that I won’t have the place to myself while I obsess over his words. Mac still thinks this is a crazy idea, even if she is reluctantly helping me. 

I hold my tongue long enough to serve the meal I’ve prepared. Just a simple tomato soup and grilled cheese, Mac’s made with vegan cheese. I try not to wrinkle my nose in distaste as I hand the plate to her. It won’t do any good to antagonize her before I’ve gotten what I wanted. 

As we sit to eat, my patience ends and I can't help the exasperated tone of my voice.

“Mac, do you have it or not?” I’ve been worrying that my clue was too obscure and he wouldn’t be able to find it. Or worse, that he would come but give it to one of the other hostesses. It could be lost forever. I shudder at the thought of the book in the hands of someone like Madison who works the shift before Mac. 

“I do, but before I give it to you, I need you to tell me again why you’re doing this. This is the most animated I’ve seen you in years.” Mac’s pale blue gaze is intense. I squirm slightly in my seat, unsure how to answer this question. It’s not the first time she’s asked, and I doubt she’ll take my first answer again. 

Originally I told her it was a lark, just something to pass the time. I tried explaining how I thought it would help me break free from the shell I’d built around me, keeping me from living my life. She just didn’t see it the same as me. 

“Mac, I’m not sure how to explain it correctly. I just feel like this is something I have to do. You know what it’s been like for me. I’m so tired of feeling this way, of being so afraid. I see what you have with Max, and I want to have that kind of connection. I want to know I’m not alone.” I rub my eyes, dashing away my unshed tears. 

“Veronica, you’re not alone. Wallace and I will always be here for you.” She puts her hand on top of mine, silently providing comfort. 

“I know that, I do, but this isn’t the life I envisioned. I expected light and laughter, maybe even love. Not fear and loneliness. I love you and Wallace, and I wouldn’t have gotten here if it wasn’t for you both, but I need to put myself out there again. I can’t keep letting the past define my future.”

“And you think talking to some stranger and exchanging dares will give that to you.” I can tell she’s trying to understand, but I’m not explaining it very well. 

Mac has been my friend since high school. She was witness to all of my ups and downs. We were so different, but she’s still the Q to my Bond. 

I started dating Stosh Piznarski in high school. He was sweet and cute. The kind of guy you bring home to meet your mother. Except that my mother wasn’t home. She left when I was 16, leaving my dad and I to pursue some old flame from high school while drowning her sorrows in vodka. I told myself I was better off without her and besides; I had Piz. I thought we were in love. 

We made plans to attend college together; me studying pre-law hoping to become a prosecutor someday; him doing a dual major in journalism and music. We planned everything. It was a fairy tale come to life. 

Once we got to college, though, things changed. Piz was no longer the attentive, sweet boyfriend he was in high school. He started blowing me off, giving half-assed excuses of classes or study groups. I tried not to be hurt, made all sorts of excuses for why he was suddenly distant. 

I think what tipped me off was the change in our sex life, though. I had lost my virginity to Piz in our junior year, at prom like a typical wide-eyed cliche. It wasn’t anything like I thought it would be from reading books and watching movies. Still, it was our first time, and I thought over time, it would get better. I can’t say that it did. I tried, but he wasn’t interested in anything except how he wanted to do it. Sex was something to endure, a payment for the rest of our love story. 

Then, a few months into our freshman year, he started complaining about how boring our sex life was. Kept saying that we were like an old married couple, only doing it a few days a week. Simple girl that I was, I attempted to spice things up, but all of my overtures were rebuffed. The more I tried, the more he made me feel like there was something wrong with me. 

Where before my petite stature and lack of curves was beyond sexy, now I was boyish. I had never been one of those women who thought they needed to change their bodies, but suddenly I was researching breast augmentations. 

It still makes me cringe, the lengths I went to trying to keep him when he was just a dick to me. Even two years later, I’m afraid that I’d still be trying if I hadn’t walked in on him going down on a girl from his Intro to Communications class named Parker. Not once in our three-year relationship had he gone down on me. I tried to make him once, and he acted like it was the most disgusting thing in the world. 

When he saw me, he didn’t even try to apologize. He blamed everything on me, said I was frigid, didn’t know how to please a man. I actually begged him to work it out with me. I didn’t realize it then, but I was projecting all my abandonment issues from my mother onto my relationship with Piz. 

Instead, I was devastated. I thought he was the love of my life, the person I was going to marry, have a family with. Everything was a lie. Mac was enrolled at NYU, but came out to be with me when I called her crying. She had never really liked Piz, but she maintained our friendship, saying nothing to me until it was over. 

I couldn’t believe that my judgement was so off. I couldn't stay there, seeing him, hearing his words in my head again and again, telling me how I wasn’t enough. Mac suggested that I come to New York. I had applied to NYU senior year, getting accepted, but went to UCLA-San Diego with Piz. It wasn’t that hard to get accepted for the spring semester. 

Leaving was the simple part, except for being so far away from my dad. Moving forward, dating again, that is the part that I’ve struggled with. After everything with Piz, I just couldn’t believe in love. I couldn’t believe that anyone would find me desirable. Despite Mac’s assurances otherwise, I no longer find myself attractive. 

I was afraid to even try. Except for Wallace, who was already friends with Mac when I moved here, I’ve avoided members of the opposite sex like the plague. I decided I wouldn’t risk putting myself out there to be hurt again. For a long time, just being with my friends was enough. But a few months ago, I felt a shiver down my spine at the library, like someone was watching me. When I turned around to look, there wasn’t anyone there, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something monumental had almost happened. 

When I was young, I had this silly fantasy that when I met the person meant for me, I’d feel it, like lightning striking. That’s sort of what this feeling felt like. I rode the glow of that feeling all the way home. That’s when I had the idea to put this plan into motion. 

Maybe I am testing the fates, but something tells me now was the time that I am ready to try again. The thought of losing so much of myself into another person again terrifies me, and I’m not sure I can ever give my heart to another. But I am tired of living my life in fear. 

Mac quirks an eyebrow at me, silently waiting me out as I get lost in my head, trying to find a way to explain. 

“I don’t know what I think, Mac. I know it's not rational, that it makes no sense. It just feels right in a way that nothing else has in a really long time.” I shove my hands inside the sleeves of the oversized hoodie I’m wearing. Baggy clothing is a stable in my wardrobe now. Piz’s less than flattering comments about my physique still echoing in my head. Dropping my head to avoid her gaze, I whisper. “I still hear his voice, telling me why I can’t be loved.”

Mac inhales sharply before hissing, “That fucking bastard.” 

Moving from her chair to kneel in front of me, Mac gently pulls my hands from where I’ve hidden them. “Veronica, you weren’t the problem. You were never the problem. Piz was an asshole. You are a beautiful, desirable woman. You’re smart and kind and any guy would kill to be with you.” 

She takes a deep breath, standing to her feet. “If this is what it takes for you to see yourself the way I do and Wallace does, then so be it. I’ve seen crazier things.” 

I glance up sharply, but Mac isn’t in front of me. I swivel my head, trying to locate her. She reemerges bringing the red notebook to me. 

I touch the cover reverently, tracing the words on the front. Mac quirks her eyebrow again, waiting for me to open it. 

“Do you mind…” I trail off. Mac gazes at me intently for a few more seconds before nodding curtly. 

“I’ll be in my room if you need me.” She pauses at the door to her room. “Veronica?”

“Hmmm?” My gaze remains on the notebook in front of me. 

“Just be careful. You are an amazing person. You don’t need some mystery guy to validate you. You don’t need any guy or person to validate you. You are enough.” I nod, letting her know I heard her, even if I can’t quite believe the words myself. 

I wasn’t always like this, but now, I can’t seem to find that part of myself that knows how to be strong. 

When I hear the click of her door closing, I open the notebook, reading his words. I read through them several times, committing them to memory. I can almost imagine him sitting in Serendipity’s nursing a hot chocolate, writing away in his loopy scroll. 

I puzzle for a second on his riddle before smiling brightly. _Oh you silly boy, you’ve already gone down the rabbit hole with me._

_**I’m glad I was able to help, even if it was in a small way.** _

**__**

**_You’re right, love is too heavy a discussion between almost friends. That’s how I’d like to think of you, if that’s okay. A kindred spirit. So we’ll leave off discussion of love for now; current or lost. Instead, I’m going to ask a question of my own. What shadows plague you in this season of joy, my friend? You don’t have to tell me. I’m far too curious, as many would tell you. Still, if you wanted to…_ **

**__**

**_This time of year is supposed to be about happiness and family. I am very far away from what little I have this year and it saddens me. It’s really just me and my dad now. My mom took off when I was 16 for greener pastures or maybe a vodka bottle. I looked her up once, about a year or so ago, but she had made a new life for herself with a new family._ **

**__**

**_I don’t know why I told you that. I never tell anyone about it. Christmas was always our thing, but since she’s left, my dad and I really go all out. Elf hats and decorations, a complete tree decorated in Padre ornaments. Caroling, I think I miss that most. I used to love to sing, but music doesn’t hold the same pleasure for me anymore. I can’t go back._ **

**__**

**_I have friends here who will try to make up for the loss, but it won’t be the same. They’ll want to go to parties and clubs, things that I can’t find it in myself to go to. It’s too exposed, too open._ **

**__**

**_There are other questions, I ache to ask, but I won’t break my own rules. Everything has to be freely given and earned._ **

**__**

**_Did you expect it to be easy? A name is power._ **

**__**

**_To learn mine, you will have to go on a quest. Go to the most iconic symbol of Christmas in New York. There you must search for the present that doesn’t belong._ **

**__**

**_Happy Hunting. Return the book to where it began._ **

A quick glance outside says I have about an hour before it's too late to leave the book. I call out to Mac to let her know I’m heading out as I put on my shoes. The sun has just set, letting the Christmas lights shine, casting a warm glow over the walk to Central Park. My cheeks are slightly wind chapped by the time the Alice in Wonderland statue comes into view. I glance around, making sure I’m not being watched before strolling up to the statue. 

Someone has put a Santa hat over the dormouse. Thinking it a bit whimsy, I can’t help taking a closer look as I try to find a place to leave the book that won’t be readily apparent to a passerby. Gold glittery words facing outward proclaim “Mystery Author”. My heart speeds up as I realize that he left this here for me. It’s what he calls me in his letters. 

My fingers trembling, I pluck the hat from the dormouse, turning it round in my hands. On the other side, written in silver glitter, is a single word. Logan. I silently repeat it to myself several times. _Logan._

Without me even asking it, he’s given me the keys to himself. Even a first name can provide a great deal of information. 

Inside the hat is a folded piece of paper. 

_**M.A.,** _

**__**

**_I know you didn’t ask, but allow me to gift you knowledge unrequested as a token._ **

**__**

**_Logan_ **

Tucking his note in my pocket and setting the hat on my head, I make my way back to the apartment. Mac's eyes widen, a smile playing at her lips as she takes in my new accessory. She doesn’t ask and I don’t answer. Instead, we settle in to binge watch some Buffy the Vampire Slayer on DVD before both calling it an early night. 

Before laying down, I place the note under my pillow and the hat next to my head, breathing in the scent. I fall asleep dreaming of citrus and the ocean. 

______________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my beta, His_Beautiful_Girl for continuous support. This holiday season is brighter with you in it.


	3. December 20th

_**December 20, 2010** _

Unlike yesterday, when I wake this morning, there’s no haunting pain, no fear. I lay in bed, lingering for a few minutes. Lilly tried calling yesterday again, but I ignored it. Dick went out to some party, leaving me the apartment to myself. I made some good headway in my new book, before falling asleep at a respectable hour. 

It’s Monday morning, but with school on break, I am completely free except for putting some finishing touches on my New Yorker submission. My professor asked me to have a copy ready for him when the new semester started in January. 

With no real schedule for the first time in months, I take my time getting ready for the day. Dick has made it to his room for a change, so I take that as a good sign. Maybe he won’t spend the entire week completely trashed. _See, I have hopes and dreams._

After several cups of coffee and a few more chapters of my book, I bundle up for the trip to Central Park. If I’m honest with myself, it took all my willpower to not rush out of bed and come straight here to see if she figured it out. She can’t even see me, but I’m still trying to play it cool, as if my feelings aren’t involved. 

I shake my head at the direction my thoughts have gone. _Feelings? Really, Logan. You don’t even know this girl’s name. For all you know, she’s some hideous spinster catfishing you._ No, I think I would be able to tell. 

When I left the notebook with the hostess, I thought about waiting outside and trying to follow her, but the cold and lack of a hiding place dissuaded me from the thought. I also considered staking out the statue, but again, it was entirely possible that she didn’t figure it out last night. I’m resigned to checking several times today, if necessary. My heart beats faster the closer I get to the statue. When I notice that the Santa hat is gone, my heart speeds up to a point where I worry if I’m having a heart attack.

Taking deep breaths in an effort to calm myself, I try to think rationally. This is a public place, anyone could have found the hat and removed it. _Aren’t there caretakers for the park?_ But something tells me that my Mystery Author has it. Only one way to be sure. 

I circle the statue, looking for the notebook. Disappointment wells up in me the longer I go without spotting it. I’m about to give up when I notice a little space under the mushroom Alice sits. The perfect size for hiding something. Or for people to shove their gum. Screwing up my courage, I stick my ungloved hand into the space, my fingers touching on smooth leather. I inch the notebook out carefully. 

My clever girl must have figured this one out very quickly. While I desperately want to see what she’s written, the wind has kicked up and flurries are swirling around. I tuck the notebook inside my jacket, trying to find a warm place to read in relative privacy. 

I slip inside a Starbucks, and wait in line for a few minutes. When I get up to the counter, the barista flirts blatantly with me while I place my order for a Venti Americano. Under other circumstances, I’d probably lay on the Echolls charm, make a date for later. She seems exactly my type, beautiful but forgettable. The perfect girl for someone who has no desire to put himself out there. While I wait for my order, I examine my feelings. I have absolutely no desire to lose myself in some nameless girl. In high school, it seemed like the answer to my loneliness during those times Lilly and I were off, but now, it seems pointless. 

Maybe I’m growing up. Or maybe seeing Aaron go down on my girlfriend just scarred me for life. I shrug, not wanting to let those thoughts take hold of me. I want to focus on my Mystery Author. I try to picture her based on her words. It’s probably just my personal preference that makes her blonde. I’ve always had a thing for blondes. 

I take a seat at a corner table, my back to the wall so I can watch the people on the street, making their way in and out of the coffee shop. It’s an old habit, left over from Aaron. Never leave your back exposed, always be looking for where the blow will come from. Intellectually, I know that I’m not in any danger, and Aaron is thousands of miles away. As long as I stick to my end of the deal, I have no reason to see or hear from him. 

Lilly is a different story. Why has she come now? What more could we possibly have to say to each other? I can’t believe she thinks I would ever forgive her or give her another chance. I refuse to be the guy who’s so desperate for love that I’ll take crumbs from someone anymore. Working with my therapist, I finally feel like I deserve something better than scraps. However, I still struggle to believe that anyone can truly love me. It’s my masochistic tendencies that keep me from blocking her number, making me torture myself every time her name lights up my cell.

Everyone deserves to be loved. My Mystery Author’s words echo in my head while I trace the lettering on the cover. This connection I feel to her is getting stronger. In a way it frightens me, but also seems right. 

I take a sip of my coffee, pushing everything out of my head except her voice. I imagine it light, with a musical lilt. Fixing it in my mind, I open the notebook to the page she has marked. My fingers trace her words for long minutes after reading them. 

Her dares are light, playful things that give me a glimpse into her personality. She’s going to make me work for everything she gives, but there’s nothing mean about it. Instead it's the most honest thing I’ve seen. There’s no take, take, take, but a reciprocity to our connection. Somehow that gives me a thrill. I’ve always loved a challenge and women who just fawn and give everything up too easily bore me. I couldn’t see myself getting bored with my Mystery Author. 

_**A quest, but what is my prize? If I pass all the tests, will you grace me with your presence? Are there dragons I will have to slay?** _

**__**

**_I have to tell you I’m not Prince Charming. I’m just Logan. I’ve been accused of ruining the princess, but never saving her._ **

**__**

**_You calling me friend, that seems right. I know we don’t know each other, but you’re the closest to a friend I’ve made since I moved here. So friends we shall be._ **

**__**

**_Padres, huh? Might you hail from California, perhaps? If true, it’s a happy coincidence. I too am from California, a little town outside San Diego. I came to New York for school and like you, I can’t go back. Not now, maybe not ever. I miss the sunshine, though._ **

**__**

**_As for the shadows that plague me, they are long and they are dark. Are you sure you want to know them? This season of joy is just lights and glamour. It’ll be over in a few weeks and we’ll be left with the dark and the cold. A new year will begin, but will anything really change?_ **

**__**

**_I’m sorry, this is probably more than you bargained for. Forgive my grumpiness, this time of year is especially hard for me. I go back to those shadows. When I was 17, my mother killed herself rather than live with me and my father anymore. Last year, I caught my girlfriend and my father together. So you can see my holiday memories are not the happiest._ **

**__**

**_You, though, this game we’re playing, it’s the one bright spot. It gives me hope. I wonder if you’ll still want to play now that you know what kind of baggage I come with._ **

**__**

**_Even though Prince Charming I am not, I will embark on this quest you’ve set for me. Once I have secured your name and returned the book to the place where this all began, I hope you will embark on a quest of your own._ **

**__**

**_You mentioned that you won’t go to parties or clubs for fear of exposure. A life lived in fear is no life at all. So for your quest, I think you need to challenge yourself a little. A friend told me about a caroling troupe that meets each night in Times Square to serenade the tourists. Join them. Sing your heart out. To prove that you’ve done this, leave the notebook with the man in the red ascot. You can’t miss him._ **

I read over what I’ve written, a tingle going down my spine imagining a blonde seductress singing for me. However, first things first. I need to find the most iconic New York symbol of Christmas and find her name. 

My first thought is the tree at Rockefeller center, but isn’t that too obvious? Doubting my initial reaction, I go through other iconic places I know of in New York. None of them feel right though and eventually I toss my empty coffee cup out, gather up the notebook and make my way to 30 Rockefeller Plaza. 

There crowds of people stop to gawk at the lit up tree. Even during the day, it’s a sight to behold. I remember coming here when I was a kid with my mom. Aaron was doing a publicity tour and of course the happy family had to come.For the most part, they left me in the hotel with a nanny, ignored, but my mom stole away for an afternoon to take me through the city. We wandered the streets, just the two of us, talking and laughing. It was a wonderful afternoon. 

I rub my eyes, trying to force away thoughts of my mom and Christmases past out of my mind. I am here on a quest. Winding my way through the crowds to get closer to the tree, I try to spot the present that didn’t belong. 

Which, as it turns out, is a joke, because there are no presents under the tree. I guess in my head I was envisioning having to sort through a huge bunch of fake presents trying to tease out which one held her name. Instead, underneath the tree is bare. The tree is an enough decoration on its own and I’m sure placement of even fake presents would have resulted in some sort of vandalism. 

My shoulders slump while I continue to stare at the tree, lost. I was so sure this was what she meant. Circling the tree, I look desperately for anything that will give me an idea of where to look next. Suddenly, a bit of red catches my eye. Leaning up against the base of the tree is a small present, wrapped in red paper with a green bow. A smile splits my face as I realize her genius. The present doesn’t belong, but she’s hidden it in plain sight, using the base of the tree to disguise it to all but me. 

Glancing around to be sure no one is watching, I sneak closer to the tree. I’m going to have to crawl under there to reach it. It’s still daylight, but the security guard seems more focused on people trying to enter the plaza than gawkers taking an unnatural interest in the tree. Still, this has the potential to go bad if I’m not careful. 

I stand close enough to the tree to touch its needles, sparing one last glance before dropping to a crouch. I reach my arm under the tree, but even though they’re fairly long, it’s not enough to reach the gift. I lower myself down to lie on the ground and wiggle my body under the tree. I pull out my phone so if anyone is paying attention, they’ll just assume I want to get a selfie of me under the tree. I’m sure I’m not the first person to do that. 

Knowing time is limited, I low crawl forward. I can hear shouting, but I just need to get the present. Just as my hand wraps around the gift, pulling it towards me, a hand lands on my ankle now barely sticking out from under the immense tree. A tugging sensation begins and I spare a glance down to see a security guard huffing and puffing as he tries to pull me out from under the tree. 

My mission is accomplished and I don’t need this to turn into something worse than it already is, so I reverse my crawl. The security guard keeps a hand on my ankle while I awkwardly make my way out from under the tree. I tamp down my instinct to kick out at him, knowing that I can’t afford to draw that kind of attention. 

When my body is free, I sit up, facing the security guard who is livid, sputtering non-sense in between harsh gasps. You would think they would hire more fit guards for such an iconic symbol. Rather than letting my inner jackass out, I apologize, waving my phone in explanation. The security guard gazes at me intensely, but finally relents, warning me to go and not come back. 

While I skip away, the present still clutched in the hand behind my back, I flip the guard a salute, wishing him a Merry Christmas before turning away. I put as much distance as I can between me and the tree, before stopping to examine the gift in my hand. My curiosity says I should open it right now, but it feels too exposed. I shove the small gift into the pocket of my jacket, putting off the moment for a little longer while I make my way to Strand to return the notebook. 

Wallace is working again, he gives me a slight nod as I head back to the sci-fi section. I desperately want to ask him about her, but once again I restrain myself. I slip the notebook back into our spot, pausing for a second to snag the second book in the Green Rider series off the shelf. I’m already more than halfway through with the first book, and I’m hooked. Spunky girl fighting to save the world, I’m completely enamored. If nothing else comes of this, I’ve found a new author to keep me company through the long nights. 

The present is burning a hole in my pocket, emitting a siren song that I struggle to ignore. I have already decided that I will wait until I’m in my own home before I allow myself the luxury of learning my Mystery Author’s name. Wallace rings up my purchase, making small talk about the series and how a friend of his introduced him to it.. 

“There’s only three in the series right now, but I heard she’s got a lot more planned for the series. The fourth book is due out in a few months and she’s already working on the fifth.” 

“That’s good, I hate when it takes too long between installments. I got burned by the Game of Thrones series. I don’t think that guy is ever going to finish that series and I’ll be wondering forever what happened.” It feels good to be having a normal conversation. 

Most of the people I normally hang out with aren’t interested in talking about books, and I keep my obsession with sci-fi/fantasy under wraps. It wouldn’t do for Aaron Echolls’ son to be seen as one of those weird people attending comic-con. Aaron plays the liberal, but he’s a bigoted racist in reality. 

A small shudder runs through me when I remember Aaron’s reaction to catching me reading sci-fi years ago. That’s not my life anymore. I’m free, more or less. Wallace quirks an eyebrow, noticing the change in my mood, but says nothing as he hands me my receipt. 

The sun is setting when I leave the store. If I’m going to set her up with my professor’s caroling group, I must know her name. I hail a cab, tired of walking. Sitting in the back, ignoring the chatty cab driver, I pull the present out of my pocket. It’s small, but weighty. The wrapping is neat, but lacks the professional look that I’ve grown accustomed to over the years. This was definitely wrapped by a real person, not one of the hordes at a store. 

Somehow that makes it even more special. 

Dick is nowhere to be seen when I let myself into the apartment. A note on the island lets me know that he’s gone to meet some frat buddies for drinks, inviting me to join them later. I’m glad for the privacy as I flop down on the couch, the present placed precisely on the coffee table before me. 

I don’t know why I’m hesitating. It’s just a name, but somehow it seems like more. As if I’m at a crossroads and once I know this secret, I can’t unknow it. It must be all the talk of quests and princes that has me nervous. I was honest with her when I said I’m no Prince Charming. I’m more likely to be cast the villain than the savior. 

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the present, tearing open the wrapping. Inside is a plain box. I open the lid, peering inside. 

A snow globe greets me. I pull it free of the box and turn the thing upside down to watch the snow swirl around the unicorn in a Santa hat. It’s silly and makes me grin. The snow settles and I flip it over to shake it up again, noticing the writing on the bottom. 

_Veronica._

Having finished my quest, I take the snow globe to my room, placing it gently on the bedside table where I can see it while lying in bed. 

Now to arrange for her singing debut. 

______________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, can't thank you enough for all the time and work you put into betaing this story HBG.


	4. December 21st

_**December 21, 2010** _

Work ran late last night and Wallace had a date with Jackie, the customer he’s been flirting with the past few days. So I didn’t have a chance to check for the notebook until today. I’m expected to be back at the office in an hour, trying to earn some much needed money while classes are out. New York is expensive, and even with scholarships and my dad helping, I still need to earn as much as I can if I want to eat more than just ramen noodles. 

I can’t afford to be late, especially since I only got this job through one of my dad’s friends. It's hard to find a job that will work with my schedule around school, but let me work extra hours during the break. It's an added bonus that it gives me an impressive addition to my resume for when I apply to law school. 

Cliff McCormack was my dad’s college roommate turned public defender. He paid me to mostly do filing and typing, but from time to time, he let me help on his cases, trying to find the angle that will help him get his clients out of whatever jam they find themselves in. 

It’s fascinating and I love working there. I’ve never been late, but I’m afraid to put off getting the notebook. I have no idea what Logan has in store for me today, but I’m quickly becoming addicted to having some small part of him each day. 

I’m so focused on what I have to do today, I don’t notice the man suddenly in my path, exiting an apartment building. We collide and arms come out to steady me before I can fall. I lift my head, the hood of my coat falling back, as I look up taking in shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes that crinkle as he smiles down at me. There’s something familiar about him.

Before I can place him, he pulls me closer, engulfing me in a hug while I struggle to free myself. Panting with fear, I almost don’t hear his words. 

“Ronnie Mars. Of all the cities.” No one has called me Ronnie in years, not since I lived in Neptune as a child. Even then, there was only one person who refused to use my proper name. 

“Dick Casablancas. What are you doing here?” I stop struggling to get away from him. I look up into his face, changed yet somehow the same. He smiles broadly at me and I can’t help the answering smile on my face. Dick was always a goofball, but a loveable one. 

“I live here now. Going to school at NYU. What about you? I never thought I’d see you again.” His words are accompanied by another tight hug as he pulls me closer. We were good friends when we were little, but I haven’t thought about him or anyone else from Neptune in years. We moved when I was eleven and while I tried to keep in touch for a while it's hard to maintain a long distance friendship when you’re that young. 

“Dick, I’d love to catch up, but I’m already running late. Give me your number.” I hand him my phone and he punches in his information. I send him a quick text so he has my information. Looking at the time on the phone, I realize that there’s no way I’m going to have time to grab the notebook before work. Not unless I want today to be the first time I’m late. 

I leave him with a promise to call him, but am stopped by the sound of his booming voice. 

“Ronnie.” He stands there, phone still in his hand, a surfer boy still somehow looking at home in the city. 

I tilt my head, silently waiting for him to say something.

“You grew up hot, girl.” I laugh, shaking my head at him before hurrying away. 

It’s disappointing to not be able to get the notebook before I arrive at work, but I console myself with the fact that I won’t have time to brood on his words anyway. While everyone else is preparing to celebrate the holiday, crime doesn’t take the day off and Cliff is busier than normal. I hear him arguing in his office with a client when I arrive. I throw my bag in a drawer, hanging my coat up on the coat rack before taking a seat at my desk. 

Loretta Cancun exits Cliff’s office, her face flushed in anger. She softens slightly when she sees me sitting there. Loretta is loud and brash, dressed in a tight gold lame dress that leaves very little to the imagination. For some reason, she’s taken a liking to me during my time at the office. I can feel her perusal of my clothes, glancing down to look at my loose fitting sweater over a button up blouse and equally loose cords. 

“Girl, when are you going to stop hiding in those frumpy clothes?” She means well, but she’ll never understand. 

“Not all of us can pull that off.” I wave a hand at her ensemble, complete with gold stilettos. She smiles, the action removing the harsh edges of her face. Life has not been kind to Loretta, but she seems satisfied with the life she’s chosen. 

“Who are you trying to fool? I can see what’s under there, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re young, you should be flaunting it while you’ve got it.” Cliff comes out of his office shaking his head at our exchange. 

“Loretta, weren’t you leaving? Leave Veronica alone, she’s got work to do and you need to come up with a better alibi if you want to avoid jail this time.” Cliff winks at me. Loretta has a temper which is a job hazard when you’re a stripper at a club downtown. I guess one of her clients got a little too handsy with her again, and now she was facing assault charges again. 

Cliff isn’t the world's best lawyer, often calling himself the bargain basement of lawyers, but underneath his cynical exterior, he has a soft spot for his clients and an intense desire to help those who need it. He doesn’t judge, which is why people like Loretta keep coming back to him again and again. 

He’s like my father in that respect and I’m hit with a wave of sorrow. I miss dad so much. It’s been a long time since he has been able to come out to visit me. I know I could have gone home, but the fear of running into Piz keeps me in New York. There are just too many painful reminders there. At least here, I can pretend everything is okay. 

Loretta leaves after promising to hook me up if I ever wanted to let my hotness out and Cliff goes back to his office. I settle in to work, the hours flying by as I focus on the case research in front of me. 

At five, Cliff interrupts my review of a case surrounding a messy divorce. My eyes are filled with tears, threatening to fall when I look up at him. 

“Kid, you’ve got to not let yourself get emotionally involved in these things.” His words are harsh, but his tone is soothing, spoken in his calm baritone. I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. My emotions aren’t for the divorce so much. It’s more the reminder of how love can fall apart, turning ugly in a moment. “It’s after five, you should get out, live a little, go do something crazy.” 

Cliff is always pushing me to live a little. I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m not living. I go out, I have friends. It's true, I’m not the same girl I once was, but does it really matter that I prefer to stick close to home these days, hiding in my baggy clothes? At this thought, I’m reminded of Logan’s words hopefully waiting for me at Strand. They close early on Tuesdays so if I don’t head out now, I may not get a chance to retrieve the notebook until tomorrow. 

I gather my stuff, giving Cliff a wave as I leave the office. Wallace is just getting ready to close up for the night when I arrive. He lets me in with a quick hug. Foregoing chatting until I know if the notebook is there, I rush to the sci-fi section, Wallace close on my heels.

“Veronica.” Wallace's voice is tight while I pull the precious notebook off the shelf. 

“What? Did he say something?” Fear grips me. Maybe he’s decided to stop. Is there a goodbye written? It shouldn't affect me so strongly, but I can’t help it. In just a few days, Logan has become my lifeline. The light in the dark that my life has become. In this notebook, I can be myself without fear of judgement. It’s safe and I need it. 

Wallace shakes his head. “No, he didn’t mention the notebook. I didn’t even see him leave it.” His eyes shift away, a tell that’s he’s not being completely honest. “I’m just worried how invested you’re becoming with someone you’ve never even met. I’m just worried you’re setting yourself up for a disappointment.”

“Wallace, I appreciate your concern, but this is just some fun. I know that reality and the guy in my head might not match up. It just feels good to be trying again.” He knows about Piz and the damage that whole situation did to my self-esteem. I know he’s just looking out for me, but for reasons I can’t explain, I know that Logan is different. “Speaking of trying, don’t you have another date with Jackie?”

His face lights up with a smile at the mention of his new lady friend. “Yeah, I do, so you should skedaddle so I can finish closing up. I’ll call you later.”

I make my way back to the apartment, my steps slow, enjoying the feel of the city on the edge of Christmas. 

Mac is still at work when I let myself in. After changing out of my work clothes, I fix myself a cup of hot chocolate, breathing in the heavenly scent as I curl up on the couch, the notebook in my lap. 

Well, let’s see what Logan has to say today. My eyes widen while I read. My heart breaks at the sadness in his words, wanting nothing more than to take away his pain. This isn’t normal. How can a stranger's words invoke such strong feelings in me?

Wiping away an errant tear that escapes my eyes, I re-read the part about the quest he’s set for me. A pang hits my heart as I consider singing again. I used to love it, but along with the loss of my mother, it was something that Piz didn’t like. He always told me I was too pitchy. 

Still, isn’t the whole point of this to push myself, get past the image Piz pushed in my head of myself? I hesitate, thinking what to write. I don’t think I can do it, even if a part of me is yearning to lose myself in the joy of singing. The thought of all those eyes on me, seeing me, judging me and finding me wanting has me pulling my sweater tighter around me. 

My breathing is harsh and I have to remind myself that I’m alone. No one can see me. 

_**Singing, really Logan? I don’t think this is a quest I can take on.** _

**__**

**_You don’t know what you’re asking of me. Even alone in my apartment, the thought of all those people watching me is enough to send me into a panic._ **

**__**

**_I want to try, for you, for me, but I don’t know if I can. I’m just so afraid._ **

**__**

**_But then you were so brave to tell me about your shadows, I feel I owe you something. I know if I don’t do this, our game will end and right now that’s the last thing I want. I haven’t felt this close to another person in a very long time, and I don’t want to lose this feeling._ **

**__**

**_I came to New York two years ago, after my first semester of college. They accepted me right out of high school, but like a lot of young girls, I based my decision of where to attend on a boy. My high school boyfriend was going to school in California, and I put off my dream of moving to New York to be with him. We had been together for over two years; I thought we were in love. It was all a lie, though._ **

**__**

**_Piz, that’s his name, seemed like the nicest guy on the planet, but with time comes wisdom and now I can see him for who he was. A manipulative asshole who treated me badly and left scars I still don’t know how to erase. I feel like he stole something from me. I don’t feel comfortable in my own skin anymore._ **

**__**

**_I’m just a shadow hiding in baggy clothes._ **

**__**

**_Still want to get to know me? I’m not some strong, independent woman, I’m just a girl who followed a boy and got burned. Then I ran away and while my feet remain rooted in New York, I’m still running. Hiding because I don’t want to know if what he said is true._ **

**__**

**_I'm only telling you this so you can understand why I can't possibly sing._ **

**__**

**_I'll understand if you don't want to keep going now. I hope you will because I like getting to know you. I feel a connection but I get that my neurosis might be more than you want to deal with._ **

**__**

**_I’ll leave the book with your friend. If you want to continue this, then leave it back at Strand. Don’t feel like you’re obligated to continue because of my sob story. You may not be Prince Charming, but I’m not a princess in need of saving either._ **

A glance at the clock confirms that it’s too late to venture back out into the city. Especially to go to Times Square. Instead, I snuggle in my bed with a good book and Logan’s santa hat next to me. 

Before I fall asleep, I think about all the times I went caroling before. _Would it be worth a chance?_

_______________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many ways can you thank someone for their support and help not only on this fic, but others as well? HBG - you continue to amaze me with your insights and edits. You Rock Girl!!


	5. December 22nd

_**December 22, 2010** _

The only things on my agenda today are continuing to avoid Lilly and meet my creative writing professor for coffee to discuss my New Yorker submission. Of course, that wasn’t really part of my original holiday break agenda, but a fortunate coincidence, a result of me begging him to bring an untried singer into the troupe for a night and get the notebook from her. 

It’s still strange to me. I am voluntarily choosing to hang out with a teacher outside of school. Thanks to my Aaron, I’ve always had a problem with authority figures, male ones especially. It’s too ingrained in me to fear their disappointment and anger. 

Professor Van Clemmons is different, though. He’s got this dry wit I find appealing. He’s not some after school special teacher, pushing me to reach my potential. Last semester was my second class with him, and it wasn’t until Creative Writing that I think he even bothered to learn my name. I did okay in the first class, considering what a mess I was at the time, but I never expected him to pay me any mind. 

After a summer of working with my therapist on various coping exercises designed to help me rid myself of my self-loathing, the results of which were unsuccessful, I wasn’t particularly in a school frame of mind. I was going to class because Logan Echolls skipping class and partying in New York were not the kinds of headlines to keep me off Aaron’s radar. I was just coasting through. Point in case, the assignment that brought Van’s attention to me. 

Professor Clemmons gave the assignment to write a short story about a painful experience in our lives. When he doled it out, I couldn’t help but think that there was no way in hell, I was sharing anything real from my life. I put it out of my mind the minute the class ended and didn’t think of it again until I was sitting there in class being asked for it. I had a moment of panic since the assignment was worth 30% of my grade and I had nothing to give. It was sheer madness and sleep deprivation, I’m sure, that made me rip out part of the feelings journal that my therapist was making me keep. 

The portion I tore out, scribbled my name across the top and turned in was a passage about Lilly’s and my relationship during the first few years. The pages filled with bitterness, deep simmering rage and piercing pain, as all things associated with her are now. But even I could see the love that I felt there. Or thought I felt. It was mostly hormones, but I think a part of me really loved Lilly at one point. 

She was so beautiful and vivacious. She was the center of the room all the time, and I mistook her interest in my body as her love for me. It gave me such a thrill to be able to call her my girlfriend, to know that I got to be with her, the envy of everyone else. Part of me took it as my due, the entitlement Aaron drummed into me. But a bigger part of me knew that it was less than it should have been, a drizzle rather than a tsunami of love. 

My writing impressed Van, though he said it could use some polishing. I guess he didn’t google me to know that it was a true story. Or maybe he just didn’t care. That one conversation led to many more until we were talking like old friends about books and life. I found myself wanting to make him proud of me. 

When Veronica mentioned she used to love singing, I remembered Van telling me about his troupe. A little Echolls charm and an agreement to meet for coffee today, and Veronica had an opening in the most sought after caroling troupe in the city. I couldn’t wait to hear how she did last night.

My original plan had been to stand in the crowd and watch, but that felt a bit like cheating. Information exchanged must come freely and be earned, not stolen. Instead, I hung out with Dick playing video games while he regaled me with some story about running into a girl he used to be friends with before I moved to Neptune. 

I think Dick has a bit of a crush on the girl since despite my repeatedly telling him to just text her already; he kept lamenting that she grew up hot. Like stupid hot. At least he was mostly sober for a change. If this girl could help stall his downward spiral, then I would like her as well. If I had known that Dick’s following me would also include a fair amount of babysitting on my part while he tried to work through his own issues, I would have told him to stay in Neptune. Realistically I know I would never have done that, but it's fun to think about it when he gets annoying. 

There’s a skip in my step as I make my way to meet Van at the appointed cafe. I have a pretty good rough draft in my bag and I’m going to get to hear from her again. 

Naturally Van is there before me, having this habit of showing up to any appointment fifteen minutes early. Says it comes from his time in the military a thousand years ago. I don’t care where it comes from, but it’s become a game between us to see who can arrive first when we meet up. I keep trying to show up earlier and earlier, but he’s got a sixth sense about these things and never fails to beat me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he stakes out my apartment building and takes off running the second I open my front door. I tried that once myself, but he still managed to beat me and while I was a sweaty mess, he maintained his cool demeanor. 

Van smiles at me sadly, the table conspicuously empty of anything but the mug of coffee before him. I can feel my spirits drop, already knowing that there won’t be a red notebook for me today. 

I try to return Van’s smile, but my heart just isn’t into it. 

“I’m sorry kid, she didn’t show.” His voice is soothing, but it does little to keep the wave of despair from washing over me. 

_I told her too much. Of course, she didn’t want to take a chance on someone like me. I bet she finally figured out my last name from what I told her. It wouldn’t have taken much to run a Google search with the keywords ‘Logan’, ‘suicide’, and ‘mom’. Just like that, it would reveal all my secrets. The details of my on again, off again relationship with Lilly, my stupid antics as a teenager that showed me to be a psychotic jackass._

Veronica seems like a nice, sweet girl, not the type who would want to take up with the so-called bad boy of Neptune, California. There’s too much drama and baggage. Despite her words about everyone deserving to be loved, I clearly didn’t make the mark. 

Van pulls me out of my silent freak out, asking to see my latest draft. I slide it over to him, still maintaining my silence. His gaze is intense and I shift my eyes away, avoiding it, afraid of the pity that might be there. I spilled my guts, telling him everything when we talked last night, even the part where I thought I could love this girl. I know it’s crazy, but there’s something about her. She takes up far too much of my mind for this to be just a passing fancy. 

I felt like I could tell her anything, but I guess I was wrong. 

“Logan, it’s possible she didn’t get the notebook last night. You don’t really know much about her. I know this might come as a surprise to you, but most people have to work to pay their way.” His tone is without any rancor. He’s just pointing out something that he thinks I may have failed to consider. It's the same way he talks about my work. I never feel judged by his criticism, it only makes me look at things from a different angle. 

“No, you’re right. I don't know much about her. I guess instead of just writing to her, I should try to actually meet her. See if the girl in my head, lines up in real life.” Van shakes his head at me.

“That’s not exactly what I’m saying, though it probably isn't the worst idea. Just be prepared. Even if she’s not the girl in your head doesn’t mean she isn’t still a person worth knowing.” I smirk, feeling better now that I have a plausible reason why she might not have come yesterday. 

“Sage advice Obi wan.” Van smirks back and we slip into the easy banter that marks our relationship. 

I end up spending several hours and more coffee than was strictly necessary going over the story with Van. We finally call it a halt when the sun begins to set, Van heading home to his family while I am too wired to even consider going back to my apartment. 

The troupe is performing again tonight, but they aren’t planning on starting until around eight. Van agreed to call me if she shows, since I still can’t bring myself to stalk Times Square in search of her. I figure I’ll walk off some of my energy before heading home and getting a jump on the second book in the Green Rider series. 

It’ll be good to spend some time with a feisty woman with a marshmallow center.

_______________________________________________________________________________

After work, I grab a quick bite to eat with Mac at our favorite pizza joint. While Mac enjoys her vegan friendly slice of pizza with no cheese, _seriously, how do you enjoy pizza with no cheese?_ I decide to share what Logan has asked of me. 

“He wants me to get up in front of a bunch of strangers and let them hear me sing.” My voice shakes with fear as I explain the situation to Mac. 

“You used to love to sing, and you have an amazing voice. I remember you and your parents caroling all around town.” Mac’s face is sympathetic. She takes a big bite of her cheeseless pizza and I can’t help the grimace that crosses my face. _I love Mac and respect her wishes, but cheeseless pizza is too much and seems like a crime to me._ I take a big bite of my own cheesy slice of pizza, delaying a response. 

“It was our thing, but after my mom left, neither my dad nor I could muster the enthusiasm, so while we kept up all of our other traditions and made some new ones for ourselves, that one stayed in the past. And then Piz…” I let my voice trail off. I don’t want to discuss Piz again. I know Mac will mean well by telling me what an asshole he was. She’s not wrong, but it doesn’t change the damage done or how I still can’t shake the fears he instilled in me. 

“Well, I think you should do it. You said that you don't want to hide or live in fear anymore. This seems like a perfect opportunity to reclaim a part of yourself.” Mac taps a finger to her head, emphasizing her point. “Besides, these people are strangers, it's not like you’ll see them again, and you have a wonderful singing voice.”

I shake my head, not convinced. Mac raises an eyebrow at me.

“Veronica Mars, either you’re going to try or you might as well just give up on life now. You are an amazing person. You’re beautiful, strong, and one of the best people I’ve ever met. These are our twenties, we need to make the most of them because from what I can see, the next sixty years of our lives are going to be a trial in patience. There’s a reason they say that adulting sucks. Just let yourself embrace your inner hotness.” Mac is not normally quite so verbose, but when she feels strongly about something, she goes all in. 

I waver, still on the fence. I have to admit that the idea of losing myself in the joy of singing is very tempting. It definitely might help me capture some holiday magic that I seem to have lost. I mean, it's almost Christmas and I’m still not feeling it. Mac can see I’m wavering, so she throws out one last encouragement.

“I’ll even go with you. I won’t sing, since no one needs to hear that, but I’ll be right there, cheering you on. You won’t be alone.”

_Alone, isn't that what this was about? I wasn’t alone, but I was lonely._ I started this hoping for a connection with someone, hoping to move past my fear that letting another person in would leave me broken like it did with Piz?

I smile shyly at Mac, nodding in agreement. “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

When we get to Times Square, there’s a group of people humming, prepping, but no one is singing. The only way to pick the caroling troupe out of the milling tourists is their matching necklaces of jingle bells. My eyes search for someone wearing a red ascot. 

The troupe organizes, creating a semicircle. Tourists pause, realizing that something is about to happen. Fear makes my hands clammy and my throat feels tight. I don’t think I could sing, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I turn to tell Mac that we should go when I finally see a tall man wearing a red ascot. 

The notebook is tucked away in the pocket of my puffy jacket. The troupe is nearly ready to begin, but I can probably give this man the notebook before they begin and slip away. Armed with a plan, I approach a red ascoted man.

“Excuse me.” He turns to me with a small smile. 

“Veronica?” His brown eyes are warm as he takes me in. I swallow past the lump in my throat, pulling the notebook out. 

“Yes, that’s me.” My voice is thin, shaky. I hold out the notebook to him, but he looks at it dumbly. 

“I’m Van Clemmons, Van to my friends. I believe the plan was that you were to give that to me after you sang with us.” His eyes narrow, concern evident. I’m not sure if it's because he’s afraid I’ll be a terrible addition to the troupe or actual concern for me and my very apparent nervousness. 

“Oh, well, yeah, but…” I trail off. Mac has positioned herself against a street sign, watching me, silently giving me support. 

“Look, we have to get started, our fans await.” He waves a hand at the tourists who seem curious but fans, is a broad stretch. His voice drops and I have to strain to hear him. “Logan’s not here, this is just for you. Sing with us.”

The sincerity in his eyes pulls at something in me. I give him a wavering smile. 

“Okay.” My voice is firmer, while my resolve kicks in. I want this and I’m not going to let Piz or my mother keep stealing things from me. I hold out the notebook again, but Van shakes his head.

“Give it to me after.” 

“Please, I’ll stay, but just take it now, in case.” My resolve might be currently present, but one snicker and I can’t guarantee that my confidence won’t just crumble. I know myself and running is my basic mode. I’d kick myself if that prevented Logan from getting the notebook for another day. Van gives me a considering look but finally takes the notebook, tucking it into his jacket. He pulls out a jingle bell necklace and places it around my neck. 

“There, now you’re one of us.” He directs me to stand with a group of other women. When they begin to sing, I realize that he’s correctly placed me with the altos. One of the troupe hands me a caroling book, pointing to their first song. The blood pounds through my veins as the first song begins and I’m thankful for the book with the words, because I’m not sure I could remember otherwise right now. 

My voice is quiet when we first start singing ‘Joy to the World’ but it gains in strength as I warm up to the song. I keep my eyes focused on Mac while I sing, comforted that there’s someone there for me. 

The troupe takes a quick break after the fifth song to grab some hot apple cider someone has brought in thermoses. I’m hesitant to take it at first, my dad’s warning about taking drinks you didn’t prepare yourself echoing in my head, but I think this is safe, just this one time. These people aren’t nefarious criminals bent on destroying me, they’re just a group of people out to make the world a little brighter through the gift of music. 

Van joins me as I sip my cider. 

“You have a magnificent voice.” His voice shows his surprise. I wonder what Logan’s relationship is to this man and how he finagled this invitation to join the troupe. This isn’t a passing troupe, but a nearly professional, clearly organized troupe. I’m sure that normally auditions are a thing. Not just anyone is going to make it as a member. 

“Thanks. I used to sing when I was younger. I forgot how much fun this could be.” The smile on my face is genuine. I am having fun. It feels as if a place in my heart is finally healing, a broken piece that I didn’t even notice until it started filling with song. 

“Well, I’m sure you figured out that we don’t normally invite just anyone to join us. I’m glad Logan wasn’t mistaken about you. I hope you’ll consider joining us. We don’t just perform for Christmas, we’ve got a whole slew of events throughout the year. I’ll make sure you get our email so you can join.” I nod enthusiastically, not trusting my voice past the rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. 

“What do you say you take the solo in Silent Night?” My mouth gapes open in surprise. I’m thrilled beyond words at this honor. 

“Are you sure? I’m sure someone else planned to do that.” They have this all planned out, I can’t imagine that they pick soloists on the fly, especially new members who are untested.

“Yes, Janine was supposed to do it, but she’s fine with letting you do it. She agrees that you have a broader range than her. I put you with the altos, but only because we don’t really have any mezzo-sopranos to group you with. We think you’ll do spectacularly.” Van’s smile is encouraging, and I swallow down the lump of fear that has reemerged, my stomach churning. I want to believe him, should believe him, but that Piz voice still won’t completely let me go.

“Um, if you’re sure. I’d love to. Thank you.” I’m practically bouncing. I look for Mac in the crowd, but I’m too short to see her through the throngs of people now.

Van places a hand on my shoulder as he calls for the troupes' attention. I can’t remember the last time someone really touched me. It feels nice and I bask in the glow the evening has brought, wondering how Logan knew that this was just what I needed.

I don’t even hear Van’s announcement, but suddenly we’re back in formation and Janine is pushing me forward. As I begin, I close my eyes, blocking everything out and just focusing on the amazing feeling of singing. 

When the rest of the troupe joins in, I take a step back, blending back in, my short stature hiding me for the most part. We continue performing for another hour before finally calling it a night. Troupe members mob me, congratulating me on my performance and encouraging me to continue singing with them. I lose Van in the crowd despite his extreme height, thankful that I gave him the notebook before the show. 

Mac finds me and hugs me, surprising both me and her. We’re really not the hugging type. 

“Veronica, you were amazing! Really, who knew such a loud sound could come out of such a small person.” Her grin is threatening to split her face in two. I know there’s an answering one on mine. I’m exhilarated. I feel like I could do anything. What was I so afraid of? For the first time in two years, the voices tearing me down are silent in my head and it's just me in there. 

I hear Van’s voice call out and I feel the color drain from my face.

“Logan!!” I don’t turn around, fear replacing the exhilaration of a moment ago. I’m all too aware of what I look like. A schumply burgundy marshmallow, sweaty with no makeup on. This is not how I want him to see me for the first time. 

I grab Mac’s arm, waving a goodbye to the milling troupe members, and run. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas Eve to my beta, His_Beautiful_Girl, you are awesome!!


	6. December 23rd

_**December 23, 2020** _

It’s the low groan that wakes me up. Not my own, but the one from the oversized blonde surfer laying on the bed above me. _How in the hell did I end up sleeping on the floor?_ My brain takes a second to supply the details of last night, sleep still holding tenaciously to me. 

My night definitely didn’t go as planned. Something is poking me in the side, adding to my general uncomfortableness. Sweeping my hand down my side, I find the offending object, blearily opening my eyes to stare at the red notebook in my hand.

_Flashback_

Instead of heading home after a walk, to get all my caffeinated energy out, I found myself in Times Square. I stood on the sidelines, my eyes closed, listening to the music. I had promised myself that I wouldn't seek Veronica out, but the temptation proved too great. I didn’t know if she was one of the voices, but I kept fixating on one voice among the many. It matched the voice in my head when I read her words. 

When that voice began a solo, I couldn’t keep my eyes closed anymore, desperate for a glimpse of the angel singing. Unfortunately, there were too many people and whoever was singing wasn’t tall enough to see over the myriad of listeners swaying in front of me. 

I stayed until the troupe finished, hoping to see her. I knew I would know her the second I saw her, the connection I felt to her so strong. My plans were dashed again when the troupe broke up and Van called me over. 

He handed me the notebook, wishing me a Merry Christmas. I glanced around, trying to find the angel voiced singer, but everyone was a stranger. Van noticed my roving eye.

“She already left.” His eyes were kind as my face fell in disappointment. I was so close. It was for the best, I didn't want to find her through cheating, anyway. 

I made my excuses to Van, promising to catch up with him about my story after the holiday. Armed with the notebook and her angelic voice in my head, I headed towards my apartment, ready to ensconce myself for the night and read what she had written.

The best laid plans though often go awry, and this was no different. I didn’t even make it home before my cell started beeping with a call. Stopping by a closed store, I leaned against the wall to answer the call. 

“Dude.” Dick’s words were more slurred than normal. Despite my worry about Dick’s degenerating sobriety, I groaned, wondering what he had been doing. Last night he seemed like he was taking a turn for the better. 

“Dick, what’s up?” I tried to keep my tone even, already knowing I wouldn't get a chance to read Veronica’s words for some time yet. Dick frustrates me, but he’s stood by me through a lot and I can’t abandon him when he needs me. It’s just not in my makeup to ignore a friend in need and honestly, until beginning this conversation with Veronica, Dick was all that I had and I’m all he has. We’re brothers in every way that matters.

“Need you to come get me.” I can barely make out his words. He sounded like he’s passing in and out of consciousness. _Is he on something more?_

“Well, where are you?” I brace myself to have to run to some club and drag his drunk ass out. 

I could hear him shouting at someone, asking where he is. His voice sounded despondent when he came back on the line.

“39th Street Precinct.” _Shit, what did he do that he’s sitting in jail?_

“I’m on my way. Sit tight.” I chuckled at my own words, hearing the hysterical edge. Has this really been what my life has turned into? Playing babysitter for a man-child? Yet, I am terrified that he’s spun completely out of control and there’s no way to pull him back from the ledge. It was Dick, so I doubt it was more serious than a drunk and disorderly charge. He probably got naked again. He has a weird aversion to clothes when he’s drinking. 

The station was eerily silent, but I guess it was a weekday a few days before Christmas. I went up to the police officer manning the desk, and explained my reason for being there. After typing some stuff into the computer, he told me to have a seat. 

I contemplated reading Veronica’s latest message while I waited, but a police station after midnight seemed like a terrible portent. I couldn’t help touching it where it hid in my jacket, reassuring myself that it was still there. 

A tall, distinguished man came in and greeted the desk sergeant with familiarity. 

“What did she do now?” His voice was smooth. Hollywood would love that voice. 

“Nothing too bad this time. She only slapped the guy when he grabbed her ass.” I chuckled, wondering who this feisty woman was. I couldn’t blame her for slapping someone if they grabbed her ass without her permission. Seems like a reasonable reaction to me.

“Must have been a new guy. None of the regulars would have gotten their panties in a twist over that. You got anything else for me tonight? My date cancelled.” He winked at me and I couldn’t help the answering smirk on my face. 

The desk sergeant followed his gaze towards me and nodded. “Yeah, that one is waiting for his friend, but they still need to arraign him. He’s so trashed, he can barely remember his own name, let alone call a lawyer. You want to help the kid out?” 

The tall man considered before nodding. He came over, a hand out as he introduced himself. 

“Cliff McCormack, Esquire. I guess I’ll be representing your friend tonight. What can you tell me about him?”

I shook his hand, noting that he had a firm handshake, no limp wrists for this man. 

“Logan Echolls. I don’t know what Dick did. I just got a call that he was here and asking me to come get him.” 

“Well, I guess it’s time for me to do my magic. Just have a seat while I take care of things. Enjoy the hospitality.” He gestured towards a decrepit coffee maker that looked to contain sludge. I shuddered at the thought of ingesting that toxic waste. 

I settled back into the uncomfortable waiting chairs and hoped this didn’t take too long. My caffeine buzz had long since worn off, and I felt exhaustion weighing down like an iron blanket on my body. 

Another hour passed before Cliff came back out. 

“So the good news is they’ll release your friend shortly. The bad news is that he must appear in court next week. It probably won’t be too bad, likely a steep fine, but he swears he can pay anything.” Cliff gave me an appraising look, taking in my expensive coat and more expensive than necessary dark wash jeans. “I’m choosing to take his word on that. Here’s my card, have him call me when he’s sober and we’ll work everything out.”

“Thanks. Um, what did he do?” I clutched the card in my hand in worry, crumpling it a bit. 

“Ironically, he grabbed the ass of another client of mine. She took offense, and he ended up deciding the proper response was to remove his clothes and show her what a better dancer he was.” His eyes twinkled with merriment and I chuckled at the thought of Dick doing one of his drunken strip teases. 

“Well, it could have been worse. Does he have his clothes by any chance?” Having to drag a half naked, drunk Dick home was not a thought I relished. 

“Yeah, the bouncer collected them and gave them to the arresting officer before they hauled him here. Fill out some paperwork with the Sergeant there and you can have your friend back. Have a Merry Christmas.” Cliff gave the desk sergeant a jaunty salute before leaving. 

A heavy sigh escaped while my shoulder hunched. Paperwork at two in the morning, just what I always wanted. _Merry Fucking Christmas to me._

_End Flashback_

It was nearly five in the morning by the time I drug a drunk Dick back to the apartment, getting him settled into his bed. Worried that he would choke on his own vomit in the night, I made a nest on the floor, but the exhaustion overtook me. 

Now awake, I want nothing more than to get a quick shower, washing the stench of the police station from me before finally reading what Veronica wrote. There’s an urgency to my morning ablutions, like I’m afraid that time is wasting, and if I don’t read her words soon, she’ll completely disappear. 

I put a pot of coffee on, then pour myself a cup, fixing it just how I like before settling down on the couch. Dick is still sleeping in the other room, snoring loudly. _At least I know he’s still alive._ A shiver runs down my spine as I open the notebook. 

My face flushes with anger as I read about Piz. I have a powerful urge to hunt him down and beat him to a bloody pulp for the damage he’s inflicted on this amazing woman. Her fear is like a dagger to my heart, it’s palpable through the pages and I feel it. I have to keep reminding myself that she didn’t give up. She pushed through her fear and sang. 

She did it for me, though it terrified her, she did it. She says she’s not a strong woman, but if that’s not strong, I don’t know what is. No one knows better than me how debilitating fear can be. 

The words pour out of me in a torrent, making my normally neat handwriting sloppy. 

_**Veronica. You are so much more than what you think. You sang. You stepped out of the shadows and sang. I’m so proud of you.** _

**__**

**_I have a confession; I was there. I know it’s cheating to use a place I know you’ll be at to try to find you, and I don’t think I did see you. I feel like I would know it the second I did, the connection I feel to you is so strong. But I heard your voice. It was like an angel from the heavens._ **

**__**

**_I think you’re selling yourself short. You are a princess of the best kind. You’re like Princess Leia, Rapunzel from Tangled, and Mulan all rolled into one. You’re a badass princess who can do anything! No need for a prince to save you. Not only will you save yourself, you’ll kick ass the entire time doing it._ **

**__**

**_I may not be a prince, but I still want to protect you, be by your side while you rise to the top. I want to hurt this Piz guy for making you believe that you were anything other than an amazing woman. He’s clearly a fucking moron if he thought he could do better than someone like you._ **

**__**

**_When you didn’t show the first night, I thought for sure that I had scared you away. I know I’m messy and I’ve been hurt before too, but you did show. I can’t tell you what that means to me that you put aside your fears because you care what I think._ **

**__**

**_I would have continued this game of ours no matter what. I hope you understand that. Nothing you say would change my mind. I haven’t even met you and you’re the first person I think of when I wake and the last person I think of when I sleep._ **

**__**

**_I’m just glad I haven’t scared you away._ **

**__**

**_Can we meet? I know it’s cheesy, but would you meet me for a Christmas Eve party? It’s being held at the Upperwest. Do you know it? It’s this cool speakeasy type club. It's not too loud. I’ll leave your name at the door. Please?_ **

**__**

**_You said you’re hiding in baggy clothes, but I’ve learned that the clothes don’t make the woman, the woman makes the woman. Still, I grew up with a mom who believed that clothes were like armor and wearing her finest was her way of pulling her confidence close to her heart._ **

**__**

**_If you agree to meet me, go to Bergdorfs tomorrow. Pick out anything you want. Find the outfit that makes you feel like your sexiest self. I’m not saying to dress sexy, I don’t want you to think that’s what I want from you, although if that happens, I’m not opposed. I just meant, find something that makes you feel like you feel sexy and confident. Find something that you are ready to take on the world in. Don’t worry about the money, just tell them Logan sent you and it’ll be taken care of. Please let me do this for you. You deserve something special for stepping up._ **

**__**

**_Until we meet, Logan._**

Glancing at the time, I realize I need to hurry if I’m going to drop off the notebook before The Strand closes; it's too late for Veronica to retrieve it today. I’m counting on Wallace to tell her it's there again. Downside of not getting to sleep until nearly 5 in the morning is that I slept most of the day away. 

I imagine Veronica is anxious, waiting for me to reply to her message. I want to be sure that she gets my message in plenty of time. 

I’m almost giddy by the time I put the notebook back in our place. I’m going to meet this girl tomorrow. 

For the first time in a long time, I’m actually looking forward to Christmas. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

The oven has never looked cleaner. All day I’ve been filled with nervous energy, which I’ve channeled into scrubbing the entire apartment from top to bottom. When I take a break, my mind fills with doubts. _Did I tell Logan too much? Will he still want to continue this? What if he thinks I’m a weak person or too clingy? Guys don’t like clingy, do they?_

I know this is Piz’s voice in my head, but I can’t shut the thoughts out. Logan is the first guy I’ve felt comfortable around, like I could be myself with in a very long time. I haven’t even met him and already he’s becoming someone I need. 

That thought scares me because what if it’s all a lie like my entire relationship with Piz was? _What if I’m not enough for him?_ I wasn’t enough for Piz clearly. If the sum total of who I am was enough, he wouldn’t have felt the need to constantly try to change me or cheat on me. 

This thing with Logan feels so real, but we’ve never even met. Am I putting unrealistic expectations on a stranger? But it doesn’t feel like he’s a stranger. He feels like he’s the other piece of my soul. I hear his voice in his words and I know that together we can be amazing. 

As I go to clean the coffee table for the third time, Mac finally loses it. All day she’s been working quietly, the calm eye of the storm that is my obsessive cleaning. 

“Veronica, fucking go get the damn notebook already. You’re driving yourself crazy and you’re taking me with you.” Mac rarely loses her temper, but she is formidable when she does. My mouth gapes open in shock. I know I’m delaying, _but what if?_ I shut off that line of thought. Mac is right, I’m driving myself crazy when there’s a simple solution. 

She smiles when I drop the cloth I was using and drag on my coat, not even bothering to change my clothes.

“Good luck.” Her words follow me out into the hall.

I hurry down to Strand. Wallace is off today so the only way to find out if Logan has left the notebook is to check for myself. It’s already getting dark when I arrive. My steps are hesitant while I walk to the sci-fi section, a breath I didn’t know I was holding escaping when I spot the familiar red spine in our spot. 

Gathering it close, I practically sprint back to the apartment and lock myself in my room, not even stopping to say hi to Mac and Wallace, who are watching TV in the living room. Curled up on my bed, with his santa hat on my lap, I read his message again and again. I’m warmed by his words, but his offer to meet at a club no less has me nearly hyperventilating. 

What if he doesn’t like what he sees? A high-pitched noise claws up my throat, surprising me. Mac and Wallace rush into my room. Mac has my taser in her hand, her eyes wild as she looks for the threat. Wallace immediately drops to the bed, putting his arms around me. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice is concerned, and he’s out of breath from his dash to get in here and protect me from whatever threat there was. 

“He wants to meet.” Mac chuckles, lowering my taser and dropping beside me on the bed. I wrap my arms around my knees, trying to make myself as small as possible. 

“So what’s wrong with that? Wasn’t that the whole point of this game?” Mac’s voice is quiet, but there’s no hint of judgement. 

“I hadn’t really thought that far. I guess I didn’t really think I’d find anyone who I’d even want to play this game with.” My vision is blurry and I blink away tears, but it goes back to blurry as more fill my eyes. 

“Veronica, all you’ve talked about for the past few days is Logan. I don’t get it, but you obviously like him. Just go for it, girl.” Wallace wipes a tear away. His kind brown eyes offer support. 

“I don’t know. It’s a club, and what if I’m not who he wants? What if I’m not enough?” I haven’t told them everything about Piz, but Mac was around enough to know that he was constantly putting me down. There’s only so many times you can hear negative things about yourself before you start to believe they must be true. 

“Then fuck him. If he can’t see what an amazing, beautiful woman you are, then he doesn't deserve you.” Mac puts her hand over mine, squeezing gently. Wallace nods in agreement. “But I think he’s going to take one look at you and think he died and went to heaven.”

At my quizzical look, they both laugh lightly. “You’re a fucking hottie, V.” Wallace’s words bounce around my head, trying to find purchase. I shake my head, automatically disagreeing. 

“Oh my god, I’m going to kill Piz if I ever see him again.” Mac mutters. “Veronica, you are a sexy woman. You might hide it under your hoodies and sweaters, but I’ve known you since we were kids and all the guys and a lot of the girls stopped and turned their heads when you walked down the halls of high school. On top of that, you’re one of the kindest people I know.”

“Logan offered to pay for me to pick out an outfit for tomorrow. He told me to pick one that makes me feel sexiest.” 

“At the very least, get some free clothes out of it.” Mac waggles her eyebrows, making me laugh. 

“Alright, enough. This is a problem for tomorrow. I think we decided that tonight was a movie marathon. Are we starting with _Love, Actually_?” I uncurl my body, standing from the bed, trying to change the subject. I need to think about it before making a decision. I foresee a sleepless night ahead of me. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HBG - without you this chapter would have been all over the place. So glad you're my beta.


	7. December 24th - Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached real time dates, so now you'll have to wait for your updates. Sorry.

_**December 24, 2010** _

Tossing and turning is a lousy way to spend the night. When I wake up on Christmas Eve Day, I’m resolved. I’ll go to Bergdorfs and get a new outfit on Logan’s dime. I hate the idea, but there’s no way I could afford to splurge otherwise and I really want to look my best if I’m going to meet the guy I’m mentally considering my soulmate. 

Knowing my luck, he’ll turn out to be a troll, but even trolls need love. In my mind, I see him as tall with dark hair, unconventionally handsome. His eyes will be a warm brown that darken when he’s mad or turned on. 

I’m probably setting myself up for a tremendous disappointment, but I don’t care. The inner voice that has guided me to this point drowning out Piz’s. _It will all be worth it._ I feel alive, like all the darkness is lifting, and it’s all because of Logan. Even if he turns out to be not what I expected, I still owe him for helping me this season. I offer a silent prayer to whoever takes care of girls who have the misfortune of falling in love with the written words of another soul. _Please don’t let him disappoint._

Mac offers to join me on my shopping trip, which is really sweet considering she hates shopping even more than I do. I decline, though. This is something that I have to do for myself. 

Bergdorf’s is sure to be a mob scene with last-minute shoppers trying to find that last gift, but I figure early morning is still my best bet. I looked up the club online last night before going to sleep and their annual Xmas Eve Smash doesn’t start until 9. That will give me plenty of time to obsess and worry about if I’m doing the right thing. 

Oh and do something with my hair and throw some makeup on. I make a note to stop by the makeup counter on my way out since I haven’t bothered with the crap in two years. I’m going to be pulling out some really rusty skills tonight if I’m actually going to go. 

I wander through the store, gently running my hand over fabrics. As I linger over a long black dress with long sleeves and demure neckline, I hear a familiar voice. 

“Get me this in a size 4, please.” Loretta Cancun hands a sales assistant a short silver dress that doesn’t look like it has enough material to cover a babydoll, let alone a grown woman. She spots me and smiles brightly. 

“Well, look who's decided to join the real world.” She eyes the dress I’m considering. “You’re not planning on buying that potato sack, are ya?”

“Maybe.” She quirks an eyebrow at me, wordlessly telling me to continue. “I’m supposed to meet this guy at a party tonight. At a nightclub.” My gaze shifts to the floor. 

“It’s about damn time. Girl, you’ve been hiding too long. I don’t know who the fucker was that screwed you over, but I’m glad you’re starting to live a little. Every time I see you at Cliffy’s, I think there’s a girl who needs to let her hotness show.” She walks away, and I stand rooted to the spot. “Are you coming or what? Loretta’s going to help you out, honey. We’ll find you something that will make this boy of yours stand up like a real man.” 

Her coarse language makes me laugh, and I follow despite myself. 

“So what’s the club this party is at?” Her focus is on a short gold dress similar to the one she gave to the salesperson. A quick glance at me has her shaking her head.

“UpperWest.” It looks like a swanky club, but I don’t have enough experience to really tell.

“Then you need something sophisticated, classic, but something sexy as fuck. You want a dress that will tell this guy you mean business, but he’s going to have to wine and dine you before he gets to bend you over.”

Loretta is a whirlwind of activity, pulling dresses off the racks and shoving them at me. She pushes me into a dressing room, muttering ‘lingerie’ before leaving me to try on her selections. A few I can already tell won’t work for me. They’re either too short for me to feel comfortable or too low cut. I sift through the choices, thinking about Logan’s words. Find the outfit that makes you feel like your sexiest, most badass self. A red dress catches my eye. 

It’s silk and has a fitted bodice and pleated asymmetrical skirt with a removable belt in velvet. It’s a v-cut neck in the front and the back. When I try it on, I’m stunned by the woman in the mirror. The skirt flares out a bit when I twirl. Loretta barges in without even knocking but stops when she sees me.

Nodding her head. “That’s it, that’s the one.” She shoves a black lace bra and matching thong at me. “Here, you can’t wear whatever granny panties you’ve got on in a dress like that.” 

I glance at the sizes, noting that she pulled the correct ones without even asking me. I raise an eyebrow at her and she laughs. 

“Please, like I can’t tell a woman’s size from looks alone. Now, that dress needs some sexy shoes. Do you have jewelry you can wear with it?” I nod.

“I have a diamond pendant from an old friend of mine and my dad gave me some diamond studs for my high school graduation.” I pull out the necklace I always wear. It has a star with a diamond in it. My friend Lilly gave it to me before I moved from Neptune, a way to remember her always. I lost touch with Lilly over the years, but I never stopped wearing the necklace. Especially since Piz, it's been a comfort to me, reminding me of who I once was. 

Loretta agrees they will go with the dress. Leaving the unwanted selections behind in the dressing room, she drags me to the shoe department. I look at the heels hesitantly, knowing that they are the right choice for the dress, but worried that it’s been so long since I wore them I’ll fall flat on my face. 

A sparkle catches my eye and I pick up a pair of silver kitten heels, encrusted with crystals, low enough that I won’t have to worry about falling, but high enough to lengthen my legs. They’re just so pretty. Logan thinks I’m a badass princess and these shoes are worthy of a princess. Loretta coos over them, congratulating me on my choice. 

She accompanies me when I go to the cashier to pay for my purchases. My voice is small as I tell the salesclerk that Logan said he’d be paying. I don’t have a last name and I’m convinced this is where my fairy tale ends, but the woman doesn’t bat an eye. She does some magic on her computer and then is carefully wrapping up my purchases, putting the dress in a hanging bag for me. 

I figure I’ll thank Loretta for her help and she’ll go back to her own shopping, but before I can get the words out, she’s already talking.

“What are you planning with your hair?” She eyes my long blonde locks critically.

“I don’t know. Maybe a ponytail?” I haven’t done much with my hair other than the occasional trim in a really long time. 

Loretta turns to the salesclerk and smiles. “Logan also wanted her to have a hair appointment.”

My mouth drops open in shock, but again the salesclerk only smiles. 

“Of course. Let me just call up and see when they can fit her in.” 

_Who the hell is this guy?_ Getting an appointment at Bergdorfs is not a simple task. Not to mention the amount of money that sort of thing costs. I can’t possibly accept this all. 

“You snagged yourself a rich, generous guy there. No point in looking a gift horse in the mouth. If he was worried about the price tag, he wouldn’t have offered. You owe it to him and yourself to do like he said and take care of yourself.”

Loretta’s logic is probably flawed, but I really want to look my best for Logan. The salesclerk comes back and tells me that the salon can see me now. 

“This is where I leave you, honey.” Loretta gives me a swift hug. “You knock his socks off tonight.”

“Thank you Loretta, really I don’t know what I would have done without you.” I return her hug.

“You can thank me by getting yourself back into the saddle. Next time I see you at Cliffy’s I want to see a well-laid woman. No more of this schlumpy hiding crap.” I nod, agreeing even if I’m not sure what will happen.

She gives a brief wave as she walks away. I stare after her for a few seconds, laughing softly at the idea of my stripper fairy godmother. 

I turn to follow the salesclerk to the salon. She whispers something to the woman manning the front desk who smirks. I give both of them my best haughty look. As if I care what they think of me. I glance down at my baggy sweater, shapeless with a turtleneck, and my equally baggy jeans, which are only held up with a belt. _Okay, maybe I care a little what they think._

Bergdorfs is too expensive for me and I’m already taking more than I feel comfortable with from Logan, especially since we’ve never even met in person. If I’m going to make a transformation and shed off the fears that have dogged me for the past two years, then I might as well go all the way in. 

I mentally calculate what I can afford for a new clothes budget and resolve to do some more affordable shopping after my hair is done. It’ll help to keep my mind off my growing anxiety about meeting Logan tonight. 

A tall man with frosted brown hair beckons for me and I follow numbly. As soon as I’m seated, he attacks my hair, pulling up strands and making tsk, tsk noises. Finally, he steps in front of me and crouches so we’re eye to eye. 

“I’m Miguel. Do you want the bad news or the good news first?” He smiles slightly and I find myself liking him for some odd reason.

“Um, the bad news?” My voice comes out in a squeak. I’m beyond nervous. Something tells me that this guy won’t just wash and trim my hair like the gal at Hair Cuttery. He’s going to want to do something with pizazz ( _cue jazz hands_ ). 

“Okay, this style is all wrong for you. Maybe it was fine when you were like 12 and cute, but now you’re a grown ass woman with attitude. You don’t want to be a little girl anymore, do you?” He pats my hand, trying to soften his words. I fight back the instinctual desire to pull them back. 

I shake my head, my gaze dropping to my hands in my lap. 

“The good news is that your hair color is gorgeous and I won’t have to do anything to it.” His voice brightens, and he claps his hands together, standing up. “Now here’s what I’m thinking. I say we cut it off to just above your shoulders. Give you some razor cut layers, give you more of a punk edge.”

At the shock in my eyes, he rushes to reassure me. “Don’t worry, sweetie, it's just hair. It grows back. Are you in?”

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I manage to respond in a calm voice. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

_Logan better be worth this._

Two hours later, my head feels pounds lighter. I shake it admiringly in the mirror while Miguel grabs some finishing spray. 

“Soooooo?” He drags the word out, his gaze intense. 

“I don’t look like me.” Miguel frowns, but I stop him before he can say anything. “That’s a good thing, trust me. I feel like a new version of me and I love it. Thank you, really.”

I give Miguel a quick impulsive hug, which he gladly returns. 

“Knock his socks off Veronica Mars.” Two hours is a long time to sit in a chair and not speak. Miguel excels at putting people at ease and I told him all about my maybe date tonight with a guy I haven’t met but who might be my soulmate. 

With my new outfit and amazing new hair, I feel ready to take on this party. Well, almost. 

I finish up my shopping expedition, stopping at Sephora’s to pick up some supplies. The sales assistant is extremely helpful, doing up my face in a smoky eye that makes my eyes seem to glow. She adds a deep red lipstick that matches my dress and makes my eyes sparkle. A shimmery eyeshadow in grey blue and a new eyeliner complete my purchases. 

Mac’s mouth drops when she sees my hair, and I chuckle nervously.

“What do you think?”

“Oh my god, you look fucking amazing.” Mac actually gushes, her hand brushing over my shorter locks. “Logan is going to die when he sees you.”

Both Mac and Wallace have seen him, but they have kept their word and told me nothing about him except that he’s tall. Of course none of us are on the above average height scale so that could mean just about anything. I have faith that neither of them would let me go to all this trouble if he was a troll. 

“Mac, would you come with me? You and Wallace? That way if things don’t work out, it won’t be a complete bust and we can enjoy ourselves.” I widen my eyes, pleading with her. Clubs aren’t really her scene, but I could use the support.

“If Wallace agrees, I’ll go as well.” She sighs heavily. I squeal, giving her a quick hug. 

“I’ll call him now.” I glance at the time on my phone, realizing that if I want to get ready without having to rush, I’m going to need to get a move on. 

A quick call to Wallace confirms he’s in. He makes himself pretty, his words, not mine, and picks up some takeout for us to munch on while Mac and I get ready. 

After a quick shower, being careful to keep the temperature just short of hot so my hair doesn’t fall flat, I reapply my lipstick and double check everything. I steal a sparkly red nail polish from Mac and carefully paint my fingers and toes. I used to love getting dolled up, but a stray comment from Piz about clown makeup turned a once loved pastime into something ugly. Now I’m reclaiming this from him. He was an asshole, and he wouldn’t know beauty if it hit him in the face. 

Focusing on how this night is my fuck you to all the thoughts and doubts Piz planted in my mind, keeps me from obsessing over my growing anxiety about seeing Logan for the first time. 

Dropping my towel, I smooth lotion all over my body, a light vanilla fragrance with a hint of shimmer. Not too heavy, but just a hint of sexy. I pull on my new lingerie, reveling in the feel of them on my skin. 

It’s almost nine by the time I slip on my dress and slide into the heels. They fit beautifully. The party starts at nine, but somehow I doubt Logan is the type of guy to be the first to arrive. 

I pack a small silver purse, left over from prom a million years ago, with essentials, phone, lipstick, the notebook, cash, and emergency credit card. I hesitate a second and then grab a condom from the box. I somehow moved it cross-country with me. The damn thing is probably expired and I’m definitely not expecting to have sex tonight, but being prepared is better than not being prepared. 

Wallace lets out a wolf whistle when I step out of my room. 

“Damn girl, you are fine. I never knew you were hiding such a rocking bod under all those clothes.” My answering smile threatens to split my face. This is the reaction I was hoping for. 

“There’s the girl I used to know.” Mac walks up behind me, slapping my ass lightly. “Are we ready to party?”

I throw up devil horns. “Hell yes. Let’s get our dance on.”

Having no good options other than my puffy winter coat, I don it and we head out, opting to hail a cab in deference to my heels. 

There’s already a line at the club, but Logan said he was going to leave my name at the door. Hopefully, some of that magic I’ve seen from him will allow me to bring in my plus two. Feigning a confidence I don’t feel, I walk up to the bouncer and give him my name. His gaze travels up and down my body, a look of distaste on his face when he takes in my heavy winter jacket. He clearly thinks Logan made a mistake, but he lets us in anyway. 

The inside is crowded, and the temperature is toasty. We drop our coats off at the coat check room before moving further into the club. Mac spots an empty table and snags us some seats, dragging me with her while Wallace heads to the bar to get some drinks. 

“This is pretty cool.” Mac’s words are easy to hear over the Christmas music being played by a live band. I’m so glad this isn’t a raging club with loud music and flashing lights. I’m already anxious enough, and that would just give me a headache on top of a swirling stomach. 

My eyes rove around the room, analyzing each guy I see, trying to determine which one is Logan. Wallace returns with our drinks and we sit there for a few minutes enjoying the music and ambiance. 

Restless, I decide to do a few laps to get the lay of the club. There’s the stage where the band is playing and two bars, one on the first floor and one on the second. The second floor overlooks the dance floor where couples are already dancing. The entire club is done in dark burgundy with splashes of gold fixtures, harkening back to the roaring twenties. Even the glass my drink came in speaks of prohibition and old world charm. 

Mac and Wallace have abandoned our table, and I try to find them in the crowd to no avail. Someone bumps into me, nearly spilling my drink. I manage to save it before it splashes on my new dress, whirling around to confront my assailant. 

Dick Casablancas looks down on me, a cheesy grin on his face. 

“Ronnie. What are the odds? Of all the gin joints, blah, blah, blah. You wanna dance?” He’s clearly drunk, but I’m glad to see a familiar face. 

“I think I’m good right now, but maybe later?” He cocks a finger at me before stumbling off into the crowd. 

I get more than a few glances as I continue wandering around looking for Mac or Wallace, making me self-conscious, but no one approaches me. There’s too many people here, and I’m not sure how I’ll ever find Logan. It's a romantic notion that we’ll know each other when we see each other, but that’s not how things usually work. 

It’s been a while since I’ve eaten, so I make my way over to the tables of hors d'oeuvres set out throughout the club. I fill a small plate with cheese cubes and crackers. A tall dark-haired man seemingly appears on my left, turned towards the food so I can only see his profile. 

“You would think for the price of this party, they would have better food.” His voice is deep and oddly soothing. 

“Maybe they’re saving the good stuff for later?” He turns to face me and I forget to breathe. Warm brown eyes reminiscent of hot chocolate capture my gaze. He takes a small step back, not even attempting to hide his appraisal of me. His lips curl in a sexy smirk. 

“Well, if they don’t, we can always go find something more filling.” I suddenly remember to breathe and inhale sharply. He mistakes my reaction and is quick to backpedal. “Or not. I don’t want to presume.”

“Sorry, what?” My brain is having a hard time processing anything in the face of how gorgeous he is. His lips look soft and kissable. He’s wearing the hell out of a dark blue button-down shirt and dark jeans that are obviously expensive. The shirt hugs arms that make me think simultaneously of passionate sex against a wall and being held protectively. It’s an odd combination, and it’s throwing me off. 

He clears his throat. “Let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Logan, the food here sucks.” He holds out his hand and I stare at it dumbly.

_This is Logan. Oh my god, this is Logan!_ My brain is screaming now and my entire body is aching to just throw myself on him, but he doesn’t even know who I am yet. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he’s who I would be talking to. He seems like the kind of guy who has everything, but I know that looks can be deceiving. 

His hand is still hanging there, but his eyes crinkle in concern. I place my hand into his and he closes his fingers over mine. I hear a sharp gasp, but I’m not sure if it's from him or me. It’s like lightning shoots up my arm from all points of contact. I idly wonder if the look on my face mirrors his mouth slightly open in shock. 

Before I can respond, a loud noise breaks our gaze. We both turn our heads in the direction and I take the opportunity to pull my hand free of his. He glances back at me before dropping his hand to his side, focused again on the commotion. It looks like someone has fallen off the stage after trying to crowd surf. This really isn’t the place for that sort of thing. 

I can’t really see what’s going on, even with the extra height my heels provide. 

“Can you wait here for one minute?” Logan turns to me, his eyes pleading. I nod my head and he smiles so brightly it's nearly blinding. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

He moves with the grace of a jungle cat and I’m transfixed watching him weave through the crowd. The crowd parts for him, but closes up, swallowing him until I can barely make out the back of his head. 

The band has stopped playing momentarily. People are jostling, trying to find out what has happened. I remain where Logan left me, waiting for him to return, my gaze scanning the crowd for him, but he’s lost to my sight. The crowd suddenly parts, and I have an unrestricted view of him.

He’s kissing a voluptuous blonde girl who seems vaguely familiar. I might be able to place her if I could get a clear look at her face, but it's obscured where her lips are tangling with Logan’s. 

My heart shatters and it's all I can do to hold myself up. Tears fill my eyes and I take a deep shuddering breath, trying to hold them in. The crowd surges again, filling, closing them off from my view. 

With a shaky hand, I pull the notebook out of my purse, writing quickly before throwing it down on the closest table. 

I’m already moving towards the coat check room, desperate to get away before my tenuous hold on my emotions breaks like my heart is breaking. At least I found out what kind of person he was before this went any further. 

As my hand reaches into my bag for my claim ticket, I brush against the notebook. I pause at a table, already sticky with spilled beer. Then I continue on to the coat check.

It's not until I’m in a cab, heading for my apartment, I realize I just left without a word to Mac and Wallace. Not wanting to talk to anyone but not wanting them to worry about me, I send a quick text to Mac saying I have a headache. I’ll deal with them tomorrow. 

Inside the apartment, I drop my coat, shoes, and purse by the door before going into my room. I slip out of my dress, leaving it pooled where it falls to the floor. The lingerie that made me feel sexy and hopeful is discarded quickly. I want to rip it to shreds, but it was expensive and besides, I can use it again. I slip into an oversized t-shirt, scrub off the makeup before crawling into bed and finally allow the dam to break. 

Mac checks in on me, quietly opening my door when she comes home, but I feign sleep, still not ready to talk about what happened, what I saw. When the door closes with a soft click, I cry myself to sleep finally. 

_____________________________________________________________________________

I’m a bundle of nerves all day. I can’t believe I invited her to the party tonight. The party I wasn’t planning on attending since Lilly is still in town. It’s the hottest party in town. I’m still trying to avoid her, hoping she’ll take the hint finally and go back home. Instead, I’m heading to a club to maybe meet the girl of my dreams. A girl I’m pretty sure I’m in love with, already.

The hours creep by. I try to distract myself, playing video games with Dick, doing some work on my story for Van. But Veronica is on my mind, no matter what I do. There’s a fifty/fifty chance that I will make a complete jackass of myself the second I meet her. 

I don’t even know if she’ll show. At least I know that she took me up on my offer to buy a new outfit for tonight. I arranged the whole thing with my mom’s old personal shopper from Bergdorfs. She was really sweet about it, ensuring me that no one will tell Veronica my last name and they’ll give her anything she wants. I try to take it as a good sign, but the butterflies in my stomach still won’t settle. 

Finally, it's almost nine. Normally I wouldn’t show up at a party before it had been going for at least two hours, but I can’t wait. It feels like tonight is the start of the rest of my life. Dick grouches about heading out so early, but does a few shots before we head out. I debate doing the same, but I want nothing clouding my thoughts tonight. 

Dick heads straight to the bar when we arrive. There’s a lot more people there than I would have expected for a party that starts at 9, but I guess people want to get an early start on their Christmas festivities. There’s a few people here that I know from school and I make small talk while keeping an eye out for Veronica.

I don’t even know what she looks like, but I just know I’ll know when I see her. 

By ten, I’m starting to panic. _What if she doesn’t show? I don’t have any way of getting a hold of her. What if I scared her off?_ I head to the bar to get a drink, trying to calm my nerves. Dick joins me and I end up doing a couple of shots to take the edge off. My tolerance is not what it used to be, and I can feel a strong buzz. 

I haven’t eaten anything, which is probably part of it. I move towards one of the tables where they have food set out. It's not quite what I would expect from the price of the tickets for this thing, but its food. There’s a beautiful petite blonde woman standing at the other end of the table. As she fills a plate, I find myself mesmerized by her. Her entire attention is on the food, carefully selecting the right hors d'oeuvres before putting it on her plate. 

My heart rate speeds up as she takes a dainty bite, watching her graceful neck while she swallows. Trying to be cool, I sidle up next to her, keeping my face turned away when I speak. I make a comment on the food, mentally berating myself for the lousy opening. She banters back though, so it couldn’t have been all bad. 

I turn to look at her, getting my first up close view of the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen. Her eyes widen slightly and her breathing hitches as our eyes meet. I’m having trouble breathing myself, but I can feel my lips curl in a smirk. She gasps when I suggest getting something more filling to eat, and I panic. I don’t want her to run off. 

I try to regroup, wondering where all my game is. I’m normally a lot more smooth. 

I clear my throat. “Let’s try this again. Hi, I’m Logan, the food here sucks.” There’s a hesitation before she takes the hand I offer. I only meant to shake it, but the second her skin touches mine, my fingers close around hers. It feels like fire, licking up my arm, setting every nerve on fire. I can’t speak, lost in her enormous sapphire blue eyes. I should say something, anything, but I’m lost. A voice in my head clamors for attention, but it's lost in the sound of blood rushing from my brain to my groin. 

Who knew a simple touch could be so arousing. I am about to pull her closer when a loud noise shatters the moment. We both turn our heads towards the stage, her hand slipping out of mine. I want it back, but Dick is laying on the ground, obviously having pulled some asinine stunt again. I groan inwardly, turning back to the woman. 

“Can you wait here for one minute?” My eyes are pleading. She nods and my smile threatens to break my face. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

Shoving my way through the crowd to check on my idiot friend, my only thought is on the woman I just left and how very much I want to get back to her. _Veronica._ She didn’t tell me her name, but who else would have such an effect on me?

By the time I get to the stage, Dick is up and moving, seemingly unharmed. I turn on my heel, heading back to _maybe_ Veronica. I’m so focused on trying to get to her, I miss the shark headed my way until it’s too late. 

Lilly Kane throws herself into me, planting her lips on mine. I’m so surprised it’s long seconds before I think to push her back. 

“What the fuck, Lilly?” She twirls a strand of her hair, pouting up at me, her lipstick smeared from where she kissed me. 

“Well, I had to get your attention some way.” She trails a manicured fingernail down my chest and I can feel the little I’ve eaten trying to make a reappearance. I take a step back, trying to put some more space between us. 

“Did it ever occur to you I didn’t want to see you, and that’s why I’ve been ignoring you?” My voice is a growl. I don’t want to be a jackass, but dammit, why can’t she just leave me alone? My blinders are off and there’s no way I’m going to settle for her second-rate kind of love again, not when there’s a chance that I could have genuine love. I look over Lilly’s head, trying to see if _maybe_ Veronica is still where I left her. I can’t see her, but she’s pretty short even in her heels. 

“Logan, if you would just give me a chance.” Lilly is still speaking. I blow out a frustrated breath.

“Lilly. Just leave me the fuck alone. I’m not giving you a chance. You are un-fucking-believable. You fucked my father, cheated on me countless times and now you want me to what? What the fuck do you want exactly?” I hiss the words at her, spitting as much venom as possible so she gets my message. 

Lilly’s eyes widen in shock. She’s used to me kowtowing to her, not standing up for myself. _Well too bad Lilly, cause I am not your fucking doormat anymore_. 

“We were good together.” She glances up at me with glassy eyes, but I don’t believe it anymore. Everything about Lilly Kane is an act. One I believed for far too long. 

“If you’re asking if the sex was good. Then yeah, you were a hot piece of ass. But everything else? No, it was a complete shit show and I’m done with it and you. I’ve asked you nicely, now I’m telling you to just go away.” I’m moving before even finishing uttering my statement. I just want to find _maybe_ Veronica. 

Thankfully Lilly doesn’t follow me, but _maybe_ Veronica isn’t there. I glance around, but I can’t see her. I wander around the club, my eye catching hopefully on every red dress. But none of them belong to her. As I pass a table, I see a red notebook sitting dangerously close to a puddle of spilled beer, the moisture already lapping at its edges. 

Our notebook. 

I look around for her, but she’s not there. Hoping she left me a note, I flip open the now slightly damp notebook. 

_**Logan,** _

**__**

**_This was a mistake. I thought we had a connection, but I was wrong. I hope she makes you happy._ **

**__**

**_Veronica_ **

_No, this wasn’t a mistake! This was the best thing to ever happen to me! What is she talking about, hoping who will make me happy? Fuck, Lilly. She saw Lilly kissing me._

I run my hands through my hair, panic overtaking me. Dick bounces up, a goofy smile on his face, and my free hand clenches. It takes everything inside of me not to punch him. 

Red throbs at the edges of my vision. My voice is low, menacing, rage rushing through me. “This is all your fault.” I wave the notebook at him. 

His smile falters and he takes a step back, his hands coming up in an unarmed gesture. 

“Dude, what are you talking about?”

“If you hadn’t distracted me, I wouldn’t have left her and Lilly wouldn’t have kissed me and she wouldn’t have left.” I’m making no sense, but the words are spilling out of me. 

“Who left? Dude, you kissed Lilly?” I shake my head, taking deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. “Did Ronnie see you kissing her? Is that who left?”

My mouth drops open at his words. “Ronnie?”

“Yeah, I saw you putting the moves on her earlier. I told you she grew up hot.” Dick’s childhood friend, Ronnie, is my Veronica. The woman I met, the one whose touch set me on fire, is Veronica. I knew that, but this is confirmation. 

She saw Lilly kiss me though, and now she’s gone. My heart beats wildly in my chest and I struggle to get oxygen. I feel light-headed and begin to shake. I wonder if it’s possible to have a heart attack at 20. 

“I need to get out of here.” I feel hot, the club's walls closing in on me. My hands are sweaty and I sway. My heart beats so hard it’s painful now, and my body doesn’t seem like it wants to take oxygen. Dick looks concerned and steers me out of the club. I lean against the wall, taking deep gulping breaths. 

“Dude, what is going on?” I shake my head, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. “Wait here.” 

Dick leaves me there for a few minutes and comes back with our coats. I haven’t even registered the cold outside, too wrapped up in the turmoil in my head. He lets out a piercing whistle, hailing us a cab, and we ride silently back to our apartment; the notebook clutched tightly in my hand the entire time. 

When we get inside, Dick pours us both a shot. I pick it up mechanically, downing it. The burn of the alcohol is soothing, it offers respite from the pain.

“Alright, now tell me what’s going on. And what the fuck is up with that notebook?” I sometimes forget why I’m friends with Dick. He comes across as a dumb surfer boy, but he has hidden depths. 

I tell him everything, and he listens, occasionally asking a question or two. When I’m finished, I lean back on the couch, my eyes closed. My entire body feels beaten. I feel like the days after Aaron would lose his temper and take it out on me, the days I could barely move, barely breathe, the pain overwhelming. 

“So, you and Ronnie.” I open one eye. 

“Yeah.” 

“But she thinks you’re with Lilly.”

“Yeah.”

“And you don’t know how to get in touch with her other than the notebook?” I nod. “Well, she gave me her number the other day so you could, I don’t know, call her like a normal person?”

I snort. I really hadn’t thought of that. Dick actually knows her. 

Unfortunately, her phone is off and this isn’t the kind of thing I want to chance on a voicemail. _I mean, who even listens to voicemail anymore?_

Dick and I continue to do shots. I figure I’ll give myself this one night to mourn what could have been, and tomorrow I’ll figure out how to fix things. 

____________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you to my amazing and wonderful beta, His_Beautiful_Girl. A talented author, patient beta, and all around lovely person. I'm glad we met.


	8. December 25th - Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas
> 
> Well not quite yet for LoVe, but soon I promise. Sorry about the chapter number changes, I apparently have forgotten how to count this year.

_**_**_**December 25, 2010** _ ** _ ** _

There’s a foot in my face when I wake up. It’s already afternoon, judging from the light that shines through the windows. Sitting up, I shove Dicks legs off my chest. We drank until we passed out on the couch. The notebook is still sitting on the coffee table, her last words taunting me, sending a spike through my heart. 

I need to explain to her what happened, beg her for another chance, but it's Christmas Day so I can’t leave it at Strand. I’m going to have to wait another twenty hours before I have any hope of getting something to her. 

The words don’t flow easily, the blank page staring accusingly up at me. I can feel Veronica’s hurt and betrayal in her too few words. This was a mistake _. It wasn’t a mistake, at least not for me._

_**Veronica,** _

**__**

**_You weren’t wrong. We ~~had~~ have a connection. I felt it too last night when we touched. _ **

**__**

**_The girl, she’s nothing. An old girlfriend who surprised me while I was distracted with something else. I only want you. I wish you hadn’t run, let me explain this in person, but who am I kidding? If I had come back after Lilly kissed me and you were still there, I wouldn’t have said a thing._ **

**__**

**_Partly because it didn’t mean a thing to me, and partly because it’s ingrained in me not to offer information that could cause me harm. I blame my father, who ~~was~~ is an abusive asshole. _ **

**__**

**_It’s not how I want to be with you, though. You make me want to be better, do the right thing. I want to be someone that you can love. I know we said that we wouldn’t talk about love, that it was too heavy a topic for what we’re doing here, but I can’t not speak about it._ **

**__**

**_Not when there’s a chance that you’ll go away and we won’t ever have the chance to see what we could be. Because I think we’re going to be Epic. You speak to me in a way that no one else ever has. Not even the girl you saw kiss me, who I once called the love of my life. She was and is nothing to how I feel about you, and I’ve barely met you._ **

**__**

**_Just small talk and one electrifying moment when our skin touched. You set me on fire with that one innocent touch. If we kissed, I think we’d set this town on fire with the passion between us._ **

**__**

**_I know I hurt you; I know it's difficult for you to trust after what you’ve been through, but please, don’t give up on me. Not yet._ **

**__**

**_If you’re willing to give me another chance, meet me by the carriages in Central Park. I’ll wait every night until New Year’s Eve from sundown to midnight. If the clock strikes midnight on a new year and you haven’t shown, I’ll take that as my answer._ **

**__**

**_Please Veronica, at the risk of sounding like Abba's song, please, take a chance on me. I promise I won’t hurt you again._ **

**__**

**_Logan_ **

____________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you HBG. That's it, just thank you.


	9. December 26th

_**December 26, 2010** _

Wallace is working at the Strand again today when I go to return the book. The glare he turns in my direction tells me he’s heard Veronica’s side of the story. I’m not winning friends there. He follows me back to the stacks and snatches the book out of my hand before I can return it to the shelves. 

“Man, please. I need to get it to her.” My eyes are pleading. 

He shakes his head stubbornly. “No. She doesn’t want to talk to you. Didn’t you do enough damage already?”

“It was a misunderstanding. If she reads my note, she’ll understand. I hate that I hurt her, but it wasn’t intentional. My ex attacked me. That kiss, it wasn’t consensual. I only want Veronica.” I put my hands together, begging him.

I can see when he starts to relent, his gaze softening. “Please. I love her.” It’s a gamble admitting this truth to a guy I don’t know about a girl I’ve barely met. 

Wallace raises an eyebrow, but nods his head. “I’ll give it to her, but I can’t guarantee that anything will come of it. Once bitten, twice shy that girl is.”

“Thank you. A chance, that’s all I ask.” Wallace laughs at my earnest expression. Not wanting to do or say anything to change his mind, I head for the door. 

“Hey, Logan?” Wallace calls out to me and I turn my hand on the door handle. I raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “If you hurt her again, I’ll hurt you.”

“If I hurt her again, you won’t have to, I’ll do it myself.” 

______________________________________________________________________

Christmas is miserable. I spend the day watching movies and eating takeout with Mac and Wallace, trying to hide my funk, but neither one of them is fooled. Even my dad picks up on it during our call. 

Finally, I break down and tell Mac and Wallace what happened. 

“So he was hitting on you and then went and kissed some other girl?” Mac shakes her head in disbelief. “What a fucking asshole. Did he even know who you were?”

“No, but does it matter? He came there to meet me and still chatted up some girl he didn’t know. Not to mention kissing some random girl who was all over him.” My lips quirk down in a frown at the memory of seeing Logan’s soft lips attached to some other blonde. 

“But he didn’t know what you looked like, maybe he was just flirting to find out if you were you.” Wallace interjects, trying for some male solidarity. Both Mac and I look at him incredulously. “Yeah, he’s an asshole.”

“So that’s that. I tried, but clearly it’s not meant to be. I was right to keep off the dating scene. I obviously am not the kind of girl guys want.” 

“Or you just have terrible taste in men.” Mac shakes her head sadly. “I don’t think it’s a matter of you not being enough.” 

“You didn’t see the woman he was kissing. She was like sex personified, all curves and sultry attitude. He met me and then went for the upgrade.” I can feel the tears building again and I take a deep shuddering breath, trying to hold them in.

“He’s a fucking idiot.” 

“Yeah.” My voice is small. _The problem is that I don’t think Logan is an idiot. I just can’t unsee what I saw._

Mac and Wallace spend the rest of the night trying to cheer me up, but eventually I just go to bed early. I want to put the whole thing behind me and pretend it never happened.

Waking up today, I can still feel the pain, and I decide to give myself another day to move past it all. Tomorrow is Monday, and I am expected at work for a few hours so I will have something to keep me occupied. 

Both Mac and Wallace have to work, so I have the apartment to myself. I know they are worried about me, but I will pull through. It’s not like it was an actual relationship. I didn’t even know him, not really. 

Wallace comes over to check on me after he gets off work. He brings the notebook with him. 

“I told him you didn’t want to talk to him, but he was super pushy about it.” Wallace’s eyes crinkle as he smiles apologetically. He tries to hand me the book, but I flinch. With a sad sigh, he puts the notebook down on the coffee table. “For what it’s worth, I think you should read what he has to say.”

After ensuring himself that I’m not a danger to myself, he leaves to get ready for his date with Jackie. I try to fake enthusiasm for him, but I know he can hear the bitter tone to my words. A quick hug and I’m alone. Just me and the fucking notebook. 

I stare at it like it’s a poisonous snake. I don’t want to know what he’s written. Nothing he says can make any difference at this point. I thought he was someone else, but obviously I was wrong. 

At least I know now, rather than after something happened between us. It’s easier to pretend like there wasn’t something between us when it's confined to the pages of a book. 

It’s definitely better this way. 

______________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For HBG cause she knows what happens next and encouraged my evil side.


	10. December 31st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years Everyone!
> 
> Thank you for reading this story, your kind comments, and for continuing to support authors in this fandom. It means a lot, truly. 
> 
> May this new year be better than the dumpster fire that is 2020. Wishing all of you a bright and hopeful new year.

_**December 31, 2010** _

I’ve kept my word, coming to Central Park and freezing my ass off every night this week, waiting for Veronica. Tonight is the last night. If she doesn’t show, then I’m going to have to give up. 

_Please let her show tonight._ Snow starts falling on the city, and I don’t know whether to take it as a good sign or bad.

_______________________________________________________________________

Despite it still being the holiday season, I've kept myself pretty busy. Too busy to think about the notebook still sitting where Wallace left it on my coffee table on Sunday. 

It’s New Year’s Eve in New York, which means tons of tourists and a quiet night in. There’s no way I’m going anywhere near Times Square and that kind of craziness. It looks fun on TV but the reality is that you stand on the street in the cold for hours, penned in like animals and most of the time you can’t even see the ball or do more than hear the bands they have playing. Much better to watch the whole thing from the comfort of my own couch, with a couple of good friends. 

Except that my good friends have dates tonight, so it’s just me all alone again with that damn notebook. Even Mac tried to get me to read it, but I have remained steadfast in my determination to not give him a chance. 

Giving the notebook a hard stare, I wander into the kitchen to find something to eat. Unfortunately, neither Mac nor I have had time to go grocery shopping this week, so the fridge is pretty bare. It’s a little after ten, most people will already be at their New Year’s festivities, so it should be safe to pop down to the corner bodega and pick up a few supplies for the night. 

I throw on one of the outfits I bought the other day after my Bergdorf’s shopping trip. That’s one thing positive out of this total mess, I finally feel comfortable dressing like me again and not a schlumpy grandma. A pair of low-rise jeans, striped long sleeve shirt and doc martens complete my look. I’d wear the new leather jacket I bought as well, except it's too cold for anything but my big puffy parka. 

I’m pursuing the aisles when a familiar voice interrupts my mental debate over cool ranch or nacho cheese Doritos. 

Dick Casablancas stands there holding a case of beer, a huge smile on his face. 

“Ronnie. We keep bumping into each other.” 

“It’s a smaller city than most people think.” He’s so goofy, I can't help the smile on my face. 

“Or maybe it’s fate's way of telling us we should hang out.” He gives me a lascivious smirk that somehow seems wrong on his face. It reminds me of the one on Logan’s face the other night, but then it was sexy as all fuck and made me want to kiss him until we were breathless. 

“I don’t think that’s the way things work.” I shake my head sadly, trying to dislodge the thoughts of Logan. 

“Is that why you’re leaving my boy hanging?” My eyes widen in confusion. “He’s been hanging out in the cold every night this week, waiting for you. Gives new meaning to the words blue balls.”

Dick laughs uproariously at his own joke while I frown. _Logan is waiting for me?_

“What are you talking about Dick?” Now it’s his turn to look confused. It seems a more natural look for his face. 

“Logan. He’s waiting at Central Park by the carriages for you. Although I guess tonight's the last night. Pity, you and he could have been good together. He reminds me of you sometimes. Probably why we became such good friends when he moved to Neptune after you left.” There’s a hint of bitterness there, and I feel a momentary twinge of guilt for not trying to keep in touch more. But fuck, I was only eleven. 

My mind is swirling with this information. Logan must have said something in the notebook about it. Suddenly, food is the last thing that I want, I need to go home. 

“I’m sorry Dick, I really want to catch up, but maybe another time?” I give him a brief wave as I run out of the store, leaving my basket of goodies on the ground. 

In the apartment, I take a deep breath to calm my thudding heart. The notebook is still there. Dick said Logan was waiting for me. Would a guy who was just a player be doing that if it wasn’t something more to him. 

Only one way to find out. _Cowboy up, Mars._ I snatch the notebook off the coffee table and quickly read his words. I sit heavily on the couch.

A mistake. He didn’t kiss that girl; she kissed him. And he is waiting for me. 

He asked me to give him another chance. _Do I dare?_

A glance at the clock shows that it's already eleven. There’s no way to get a cab, not tonight, and walking to Central Park will take me almost an hour. 

I’m rushing out the door before I even register that I’ve decided. All I can think is: _I need to get to him._

______________________________________________________________________

It’s ten to midnight. The carriage drivers are getting ready to pack it up for the night, casting sympathetic glances my way. Hanging out here all week, they’ve all heard my story of the girl I only know through her words, but how I’m sure I’m in love with her. 

It looks like she won’t show. I swallow back the tears. I tried my best. It just wasn’t meant to be, I guess. _Except it is, I know it is!_

Freezing and despairing, I just want to go back to my apartment, toast the new year. Maybe Dick has the right idea after all, just staying drunk and avoiding all this pain. I shove my hands in my pockets and glance one more time at the park. 

Muttering a goodbye to the drivers closest to me, I make my feet start the walk towards home. 

“Logan.” The yell of my name stops me in my tracks. “Logan, wait. It’s not midnight yet, goddamn it!” 

I’m afraid to turn around, afraid that I’ve finally cracked, and this is all a delusion. A tiny hand on my arm sends jolts of electricity through me. I inhale deeply, breathing in the scent of marshmallow and promises. 

“Logan?” Her voice is thick with emotion and I finally turn towards her. The beauty from the party stands in front of me, her hand still on my arm, tears welling up in her gorgeous sapphire blue eyes. 

A shy smile graces her face and I feel my mouth smiling in return. 

“Veronica.”

“I’m sorry I’m late. I just…” I don’t need explanations, I get it. All I need right now is her. 

I pull her into my arms, my gaze fixed on hers. She leans up on her tiptoes and I lean down, our lips touching tentatively at first. The fire between us ignites, and the kiss becomes deeper, my hands roaming over her back, trying to get as close to her as possible. 

When my hands roam down to her ass, she jumps up, wrapping her legs around my waist as I catch her more securely in my arms. I twirl us, trying to find something to anchor us against. I lean her against a tree, never letting my lips leave hers.

We finally pause for air, our chests heaving as we gaze into each other's eyes. 

I reach up to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. 

Cheers erupt around the city, fireworks go off as I lean in to capture her lips again. 

“Happy New Year, Veronica.” I whisper the words against her lips. 

“Happy New Year, Logan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HBG, thank you for agreeing to beta this story. I couldn't have done it without you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to His_Beautiful_Girl for sifting through a really long document to beta this and make it a million times better.


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